The worst days will be the “extreme teasing days,” the dates I have on my calendar but you don’t know. That’s when my wet, freshly cum-on panties will arrive at your desk and you’ll have to go on cam and sniff and worship them. That’s when you will have to earn freedom from the cage for a token, cum-free stroke, by drinking a full glass of my warm piss. That’s when you will have to endure the role off ass-sniffer for 20 minutes before I go out, leaving you behind, only to return home hours later and make you clean out my cum-filled pussy.
100 Days of Denial
Good morning my corporate slut,
I sometimes wonder what is worse: The first day of locked chastity, or the 100th day?
I suppose the answer is simple. Clearly, it’s the day I want to be most painful. It’s the day I choose for you to suffer most, to be the horniest, to be denied cruelly just at the moment when you feel as though your balls are going to explode or the pain will just be unbearable.
This time around, my sweet bitch, I plan to make every day like the 100th day, every day the worst day, worse than the day before. And it isn’t because I am simply mean; it’s because seeing you denied makes me wet. Knowing I can cum and you cannot is like a constant aphrodisiac.
The control I have over you when I possess and control your cock is like no other. You walk around and feel that tight cage around your dick and you feel your balls getting heavier, and you know that you belong to me completely. And it’s not just the pain and denial of chastity, but the sheer amusement and arousal I feel because I see such longing and desperation in your eyes – constantly!
To make this round of chastity “memorable,” I plan to force you to endure 100 days of denial like no other. I call it “100 days of denial” because it will clearly feel like that – 100 days even when you are on day 3 or day 10. It’s going to feel like 100 days when I sit on your face and cum all over you when I ram my cock up your ass as you beg for more, as I make you put on the tightest lace thong and present yourself for inspection to my group of girlfriends who are drunk on champagne and sunshine.
We are only at hour seven, right now, and I know it feels like 100 days. When I pick you up today on your lunch break and we head to the mall, you will be forced to unzip your pants and pull out your caged dick so I can marvel at it during the stoplights. I’ll remind you, the entire time, that your cock is staying in that prison for 100 days. I will make you rub your nipples through your shirt, then unbutton it, and pinch and squeeze them to make my ride even more entertaining.
The stroll through the mall will be long and painful. You will find it even more painful when I detour you to the men’s room and order you into a stall with a pink butt plug that you must insert and wear the rest of the trip, one that makes you walk funny, one that makes you wear a constant shade of red on your face.
The lingerie store, as always, will be the worst. When I announce to the sexy blonde manager at Victoria’s Secret, Megan, that your cock is locked up. “Corporate boy is back in prison!” I will tell her with delight. She knows what that means. When she looks at you with the sympathetic, melodramatic pout, with her bottom lip sticking out, you will melt and die inside a little. She is so gorgeous and sweet, and she giggles when she hears about you. Oh, how you would love to submit to her!! Maybe, someday.
But the best will be I have Megan bring the latest line of “pink” into the back and you pull down your pants and she gets a look at your freshly shaved goods stuffed into the too-small clear cage, with the sweet metal lock in place. “100 days!” she will gasp, shaking her head. “That must hurt.”
What will hurt, she has no idea, is when you are forced to try on the pink satin French cut panties over the cage, and then the thong, and the matching bra, and then the thigh-high stockings. All while trying painfully to make sure that big plug does not expel onto the floor of the dressing room. Talk about humiliation!!
I will make you pay with your corporate credit card and carry the big Victoria’s Secret bag around the mall, your ass on fire, your cock pulsing in the cage. “How are your nuts feeling?” I may ask, teasingly, and we’re only at hour eleven. How will you ever last? 100 days of denial?
Day three will feel like day 3,000. As you wake up, sucking on a big thick dildo. I plan to use special “alarm clock moments,” where I design new and degrading ways to make sure your morning blue balls are really morning purple nuts, and your stomach hurts so bad that you want to cry.
I wonder, on which day, you will break down and cry?
The worst days will be the “extreme teasing days,” the dates I have on my calendar but you don’t know. That’s when my wet, freshly cum-on panties will arrive at your desk and you’ll have to go on cam and sniff and worship them. That’s when you will have to earn freedom from the cage for a token, cum-free stroke, by drinking a full glass of my warm piss. That’s when you will have to endure the role off ass-sniffer for 20 minutes before I go out, leaving you behind, only to return home hours later and make you clean out my cum-filled pussy. And yet you get to hear nothing of who, what, and how good a fuck the big-cocked man was.
After all, just because your dick is useless for 100 days does not mean I should be denied; oh, fucking I will do. Trust me. There will be a lot of hot, passionate fucking, just not with you. Yet, you will clean my pussy, keep it trimmed and perfect, place adoring kisses on my lower belly down to my crotch so close you can nearly taste me. And then you will be locked up, both cock and hogtied, while I go out on a night on the town.
The nights on the town, though, that will be most painful for you are the ones where I bring you along. In Las Vegas, early next month, on business, I will attend and you will be at the strip clubs with me late at night, watching me dance and get close to the high-class strippers with the perfect bodies, and you will be laughed at and made fun of up in the VIP room when I offer the ladies big tips for who can make you cry first.
Cry from pain in your balls, from them sitting on your face in their see-through thong, making you hold your tongue no matter how bad you want to lick and worship. “Does crying out count, or do you mean, like, real tears?” one will probably say. You know how tenacious those strippers are! I’m sure the haggling will be amusing, as they all try to find a way to “crack your nut” and get the prize.
What day will that be? Will that be day 32 or so? 100 days of denial is a long, long time, and it will feel like 100 days when you are on day 2.
So let’s talk about Day 2. Tomorrow. The day you wake up, sleepy still from a dream until you feel the pain in your nuts and the chaffing in your cock. My warm, soft lips down around your thighs, teasing, my fingers on your belly. Just touching you makes you whimper. I will make you suck my fingers off one at a time as I please myself with them, and the taste of my pussy on my fingertips will drive you insane. If I like the way you suck, it may evolve into my strap-on, and you’ll be on all fours worshipping it in front of the full-length mirror while I dial up my girlfriends and make my leisurely plans for the day.
And you, on Day 2, just a lowly cocksucker. Once my dick is fully lubricated, I will turn around and pull up my cami and make you worship my ass for a full 20 minutes, making sure you are reminded of your role before you start your big, powerful corporate day.
You’ll take along with you, in your pocket, my panties from the morning. Still wet, a painful reminder of me. You will have to worship them every hour on the hour, and also respond to my email commands for pictures, and a webcam performance at noon while I paint my nails.
Indeed, Day 2 will seem even longer than Day 1. The longest, most painful day of all? The day I choose, of course. And when I wake up, every day, I want it to be that day. When I hear your pathetic, desperate whimper, and I know I hold the key, it keeps me high all day long. Why wouldn’t I want that every day?
Affectionately,
Mistress Akasha
Copyright 2021 Akasha
