His game had taken a nasty turn and as she lay there in the enforced darkness that the blindfold created she felt hot tears sting her eyes. She hated when her made her wait. Anticipation that was the name of his game, but there were some days she’d call it torture.
He brought her to the brink of climax again and again until her body was wound tight and she was taunt like the sting on a bow. All he had to do was pluck her. Pull back and then let go at the right moment and she’d explode. He wouldn’t though he’d wait until she calmed, until she sensation was more bearable before he began again.
Wetness coated her cheeks – Tears as she sobbed begging him to let her come
Wetness coated her thighs – Evidence of her desire copious in it’s flow.
Her skin was uncomfortable and it was all she could do not to use her own hands to bring her to completion. She wanted to, she did. She wouldn’t do it though because more than she wanted to come she wanted his praise. She wanted to be his good girl so she waited,
Eventually the anticipation would be too much for even him and that would be her moment. The balance of power between them would shift and a new round of the game would begin.