Tormenting Sarah

I come in the door and Sarah almost knocks me over. She’s a little wound up.

I laugh, and kiss her hard, her lips parting at once, her tongue seeking mine and her body pressing to me hard along her full length. With a hand in the small of her back I pull her to me, almost lifting her off the ground, and move my mouth from her lips to her neck, and ear, and back again to drink from her lips again. Her hands are on my face, pulling me to her, and I realize as we kiss, still in the doorway, still with the door open, that her hips are slowly, roughly rocking into me. She’s making a sound deep in her throat, almost a growth, and I feel her nails in the back of my neck, and feel her lips briising and plumping.

I move her back a step. She protests with an inarticulate sound, but comes down off her toes; her feet are bare beneath her thin cotton pajama pants, and looks at me fiercely. “I take it you did your assignment?” She nods, eyes large and round.

“Every hour?”

Another nod, and a movement towards me again.

“And you didn’t come?”

Sarah shakes her head, looking down slightly. I see her nipples stiff and hard beneath the thin cotton tank top. I reach out and tweak one small pink nipple through the thin fabric. Sarah gasps.

“Good girl.”

She smiles, but I can see she’s barely holding it together. Hell, I’m barely holding it together. I could barely work today, I’m sure people noticed my distraction.

No panties for Sarah today, and every hour, on the hour, to finger herself into a froth, to stroke her fingers, slick with her own arousal, over her aching pussy and clip, as much as she wanted, but not to orgasm. That was the assignment. I never expected to enjoy the thought of Sarah in torment anything like as much as I did. I’m aching too, but this isn’t over yet.

“I brought dinner.”

“Wh..”

It takes her a minute to find her voice.

“What?”

I heft the bag in my left hand.

“I broughtdinner. Wine, bread, marinara pasta, canolli. From Bello. Go get wine glasses, I’ll get it out.”

I grin at the look of anguish on her face, and go, and quickly set out the food. I pour us both wine in the glasses Sarah brings me, and serve us. It’s good, but Sarah’s not eating. I look at her for a moment, then take goal on her. She really has been a good girl. I gather up my plate and wine, and stand, and walk into the living room to the big chair.

“Come here, baby.”

Sarah happily comes to me and sits on my lap, and I feed us both from my plate, and she drinks from my wineglass, one slim arm around my neck, her toes tucked beneath my thigh. “Better?”

She nods, smiling, but still squirming. We finish the food, and I pour another glass of wine, and we finish it together, and kiss some more, like we always do. I don’t take much kissing for Sarah’s breathing to roughen, and her hips to start their gentle rocking again.

“Sarah”

“Hm?”

“What time is it?”

I already know what time it is of course, it’s seven minutes after eight. Sarah looks at me in brief confusion, then her eyes widen with understanding and shock.

“But I thought…”

I shake my head.

“Go ahead.”

“Can I come?”

“Of course not.

She looks at me in anguish, but still sitting on my lap, slips her fingers under the Waistband of her thin cotton pants, and between her legs. As soon as she touches herself, she gives a spasm, a jolt goes through her entire body and her arm tightens around my neck. I feel her give a small stroke of her fingers and then she pulls her hand out, gasping.

“I can’t baby, I’ll come.” She says.

“Give me your fingers.” She knows what I want, and slips her two middle fingers, wet with her juices, into my mouth. I lick and suck them clean.

“Stand up” I say then, “and take your pants off.”

She does, untying the laces at her waist with trembling fingers. I let her stand there for a moment,in just a little tank top, goose bumps forming on her bare thighs, and finish my wine, idly struggling a hand along the outside of her leg.

“Over my lap” I tell her quietly, “you forget your assignment.”

Sarah lies over my lap with a small whimper. I gently stroke her ass, and the insides of her parted thighs, which are wet, and Sarah can’t help but squirm a little. My right hand finds her tender, distended nipple and I roll it roughly, pulling another gasp from her. Then parting her thighs a little further with my left hand, and slipping two fingers deeply into Sarah’s mouth, I give her a hard series of spanks with no break or rest between, until her ass is hot and red and she is squirming continuously, understanding on my lap. “Shhhh…” I tell her at last, and again stroke and sooth her with my hand on her tights and ass and lower back. I part her tights more as she quiets down, lightly roll her inner labia between my slick fingers, then slowly and lightly stroke one finger up the entire length of her slit, from her little, pumped pink ass to the tip of her clip, which is swollen and tender and sensitive. Sarah gives one long, low moan as I do this, and her pussy opens like a flower, and as I touch her clip directly, her whole body gives a jolt. I leave her clip alone, and stroke my fingers back down her slit, and slide a wet fingerprint over her asshole, which makes her jump, then slide a finger slowly into her ass, which makes her moan again. The left leg of my jeans is soaked with her juices.

I let her slide onto her knees in front of me. She’s a little teary from the spanking, and I kiss the tears away and pull her to me, and sooth her, and kiss her. Soon she’s cooing and pressing to me, still on her knees. I move my hands to her breasts, and through the fabric, take her nipples firmly between my forefinger and thumb; not moving, just holding. Sarah soon is slowly rocking her torso in a small circle to increase pressure on her nipples the way shelikes, and giving short gasps.

I take my hands away.

Sarah gives a little cry of protest, but I stand, and sling her up with an arm beneath her knees and around her shoulders, and carry her into, then through, the bedroom into the bathroom. I sit her down onto the cold tile of the sink; she gives a small jump as her bare ass hits the chill. I run hot, hot water into the sink, and wet a clean new washcloth, wrapping it only slightly, then pulling Sarah to the very edge of the counter, and leaning her back so her shoulders are against the mirror, her ass on the edge, I carefully place the hot, wet washcloth between her legs, completely covering, and wetting, and warming her pubis. I leave it there and take my shaving mug and brush, and with more hot water, whip a later of thick fragment white foam in the mug with the stiff bristles.

Sarah is looking at me with wide eyes.

“No way.”

I grin. And nod.

“I can’t!”

“You better, or I’ll stop.”

Sitting on a stool in front of her, her legs spread wide by my hands, I remove the still-hot washcloth and taking the marble handle of the shaving brush in my right hand, slowly later Sarah’s pussy with the warm, thick, soap.

The sensing is intense. Sarah’s back arches the moment the stiff, soft bristles scrape and spread over her inner thighs, labia, cliporis. At that last, she cries out, and her body jerks as if shocked. I have to carefully gauge her reactions and sounds; I don’t want her to come yet, but it’s hard. Her body, so keyed up from hours of torque, is sensitive all over. She’s on the very brink, and has been since I got home.

Beautiful.

I continue with the brush, stroking, swirling the thousands points of the bristles over her sensitive, quivering flesh. I have to stop several times to let her Come down a little. She’s breathing deeply and harshly, her eyes closed, except when her orgasm nears and she opens them wide in panic and looks at me in warning.

She’s a very good girl.

I stop, finally, Sarah is panting, and take a new razor, and carefully parting her thighs further, stroke the razor over the already smooth, soft, lathered skin. I finish relatively quickly, and spend slightly more time, very carefully, on the sensitive inner area; and finally, placing my thumb directly and firmly on her cliporis, which causes additional writing and a small cry, make the final few strokes.

Wetting the washcloth again with hot water, I wipe the remain of the foam from between her legs, the warmth, and the roughness of the clothes causing Sarah to squirm and gasp yet again, and I finish with a hard, but short swipe directly up the center of her. I take a soft new towel, and gently dry her thighs and legs, and belly and shaft, then stand her up in front of me. legs are shaking, and I have to support her for a moment.

“One last thing, baby.”

I tip a generous amount of silky aloe lotion into the palm of my right hand,and wrap Sarah’s thick dark hair in my left. I tilt her head back roughly, and smooth my palm, slick with lotion, over and around the freshly slick skin of her mound, her pussy, and between her tights. I do it quickly, almost roughly, manipulating the sensitive lips and folds of her with my hand, working the lotion in, soothing, but heating her at once. Sarah cries out, and almost fights to increase pressure on her core, which I am trying to avoid. She’s writing, her hands on my wrist, but not pulling, just there, her head pulled back by my grip on her hair, lost in sensing.

It takes her a few moments to realize that I’ve stopped. Her eyes fly open, and now she can’t help it;

“Baby. I…baby, please, let me…I…god, please!”

I take her into the bedroom and lift her onto the bed, spread her legs, begin with her feet, alternative kisses and bites as I work my way up over her ankles, calves, tighs. I lay on my belly now, between her legs, her hands in my hair, unconsciously pulling my face into her, her knees bent up, feet flat on the bed, pelvis straining up to my mouth, and slowly, gently, I swipe my tongue the length of her slit, from the smooth, sensitive spot below to the very tip of her piping, aching cliporis. Sarah cries out, hands gripping my hair. I do it again, an increasingly slow, steady, relentless stroke, this time dipping my tongue slightly into her pussy on the way. Sarah’s head is thrown back, she’s saying only please, please, please, repeatedly in a low quiet voice. The next stroke comes faster, harder, lingering longer on her clip at the top, pressing, the next again, immediately now, swirling the bud around, and pressing, and fluttering, and another, and I reach up and find her nipples with my hands, and pinch them hard, and Sarah pulls my face hard between her legs, her thighs convulsing in around my head, crying out, arching her back, as her orgasm tears through her in a rush of heat. Her hips are pumping, andshe is crying and laughing as she comes in a wave.

She is utterly spent. I come up her body, kissing her belly, hips, breasts, neck, and fit her to me. Her lips find mine and our tongues roll languidly. Her eyes are heavy-lidded and she looks beautiful, and sexual and ripe and dark. I hold her. I lick a drop of dewy sweat from her shoulder. She tucks her head into my neck.

“Baby.”

“Hm?” is all she can manage.

“I didn’t say you could come.”

She only laughs, and punches me weakly in the arm. I smile.

“Good girl.”

I kiss her some more.