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Orgasm Controlthis story is part of the FanClub (fm:male domination, 2115 words)

Author: robbermagnet
Added: Mar 21 2005Views / Reads: 1828 / 1387 [76%]Story vote: 9.00 (8 votes)
She is awakened to be controlled.
 


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It's five in the morning when he nudges me. I moan a bit, then shift my weight. He nudges again, this time more insistently. "Get yourself wet for me," he says. "Wake me up when you're ready for my cock." He rolls over and seems to ignore me. His breathing becomes deeper as he relaxes back into a snooze. I am irritated. The morning air is cold, and I want to go back to sleep. I want to tell him to go to hell. But I don't. I remember that this is what I signed on for, and I stifle any initial impulse I might have to curl into a fetal position under the warm comforter, and even though I'm not in the mood, I stretch out flat on my back and begin to finger myself.

My body resists, and I urge it to respond. I lightly tickle my clit with feather strokes, hoping to arouse some passion, but it's not forthcoming. I try to fantasize, but my mind resists as much as my body. A feeling of panic set in as I realize I can't comply. I begin rubbing in earnest, hoping to force a response from my body. A sense of failure creeps over me, a feeling that used to be all too familiar, and I revert to fearing what he will think of me if I can't come. Will he think I'm frigid? Defective? Unresponsive? I don't want him to see me struggle, reaching, grasping for an elusive orgasm. How wanton must I be to fight so blatantly, so visibly for an orgasm?

And then I remember. In this relationship, I have no ego. How I appear, what I fear he thinks of me is of no consequence. If he wants to see me struggle, he will see me struggle. It's what I agreed to. His pleasure ...

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