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Part 2
I was pretty jazzed by all I had accomplished with Mr. Jim Philips over the previous week. I had managed to seduce him in record time and get him to cum in his pants. I had humiliated him to the point where he was now my slave, as bound to me by his out-of-control libido as if I had chained his cock to my pussy. But I was too smart a femdom to take it for granted. I needed to cement my control slowly and deliberately. So, the next day, I didn’t show up for his class. I had a pretty good idea what must have gone through his sex-addled brain. At first, he was probably relieved not to see me because he had to have been very nervous about how to act around the 18-year-old bitch who had sat on his face the day before. But that was what the brain in his head was thinking. Then the brain in his dick must have taken over and made him frantic with lust. So, he probably went home that night and beat his meat until he drained all the sperm out his balls.
I did show up the day after, which was Friday. I saw him look all pale and awkward when I walked in the door. I basically ignored him, took my seat in the front row and pretended that nothing had happened two days earlier. I was wearing a short skirt and a tube top so he had plenty to look at. I left class without even giving him a backward glance. He had to be in agony.
After school, though, I made my way back to his room and opened the door without knocking. He looked startled, like a deer caught by my two size-D headlights. I gave him a knowing, arrogant smirk.
I waited to speak long enough to make the silence awkward.
“Miss me, Jim?” I finally asked.
He nodded, his mouth wide open, catching flies.
“How’d you like to see me outside of school?” I surprised him.
“I’d love to, Nessa” he said too quickly, probably wondering if he had already crossed the line that could cost him his job.
“OK, so go get a motel room Sunday evening at 8:00 and text me the details. Here’s my number. But don’t try to call me. I’ll only take texts from you. If you call, you can forget about seeing me. After you text me, take off all your clothes and lie down on the bed. Wait for me like that. I can give you an hour, but no more. I’ve got a date later on in the evening.”
“OK, ” he said nervously, taking the slip of paper with my cell number, “but, uh, Nessa, would you, I mean, maybe we could do it tonight?” Boy was he desperate!
I tossed my long hair across my shoulder and laughed: “You can’t be serious. I’ve got guys lined up on my calendar for the next three weeks. You ought to consider yourself lucky that I’m squeezing you in so soon. Oh, by the way, between now and then, do me a favor and keep your hands off that wiener of yours. I want your balls full. Got it?”
I decided not to get my rocks off before I had my next encounter with Jim. That would make it all the more intense when it finally happened. I kept myself busy over the next two days going shopping at the mall with my girlfriends, picking out the right outfit for my next move. They wanted to know what I planned to do to our math teacher, but I kept them guessing.
Around 7:30 on Sunday, I started getting ready. I did my makeup and my hair and then examined the different clothes I had bought earlier in the day. I settled on a skimpy lime-green wrap-around skirt, matching thong panties, a similarly-colored half-shirt tied off beneath my breasts, a push-up bra, and spike-heel sandals. I had to admit that I looked irresistible, especially with my breasts pushed tightly together and most of the cleavage showing.
While I was getting dressed, I got a text from Jim saying that he was in room 218 of the Capri Motel. I made sure to give him plenty of time to get more and more anxious about whether I was going to show up. I passed the time by diddling myself, but stopped short of an orgasm. By the time I pulled my car up to the motel, I was about ready to explode.
The door of room 218 was unlocked, the way I had instructed him, but when I let myself in, I was very displeased to see that Jim hadn’t followed all of my instructions: he still had on his boxer shorts which were pretty distended with his erection. I wasted no time ripping into him.
“What part of naked don’t you understand?” I snapped. “You were supposed to take off all your clothes.” He looked at me stupidly as I strode to the side of the bed and swiftly yanked his shorts down below his thighs. There was his hard cock displayed for the first time for my inspection. I have to admit that I was pretty impressed. It must have been a good ten inches long and more than five in diameter. It was certainly one of the larger organs I had ever seen. My friends had all underestimated it despite their fevered speculations. I felt a gush of pussy juice and I knew that I had to get him inside of me. But as hot as I was, I wasn’t going to rush things. Cock teasing came first since I had to establish my dominance before I allowed him to fuck me. Just to make it clear to him that I was in charge, I gave his shaft a wicked slap.
“OW!” he cried in surprise.
“That’s what you get when you disobey me,” I intoned sternly but secretly amazed that at age 18 I could assert so much power over an older man.
I continued: “You’d better not make a disgusting display of yourself like last time and cum before I give you permission. If you do, I’ll punish you a lot worse than that.”
I pulled his boxers down his legs and over his feet, after which I undid my wrap-around skirt and snaked my tiny panties down my legs and over my sandals. I was now naked from the midriff down. I decided that I wanted to do this naked all the way, so I took off my top and bra as well. The lucky guy now got to see all of me for the first time. But I wasn’t going to let him feel lucky for long.
I grabbed his scrotum at the base and squeezed while simultaneously pinching the head of his penis. This maneuver was designed to prevent an early ejaculation. Using his cock as a fulcrum, I swung my lithe body over his chest without letting go of his ball sac. But what I wasn’t counting on was how close I was to cumming. The moment my naked pussy touched his chest, I exploded. Somehow managing to maintain my grip on his balls, I let go of his cock and frantically strummed my clit. As my orgasm peaked, I shoved my cunt lips against his nose and masturbated myself on him. I was screaming like a banshee. I felt him start to cum also, so I instinctively tightened my grip on his balls and twisted them a half turn. He screamed in pain, which set off another orgasm in my cunt.
When I finally calmed down, I was encouraged to see that my CBT maneuver on his genitals had prevented him from cumming. Now I could put the second part of my plan into effect: what I call my “hand-job from hell.” I also call it the “three step treatment” because it consists of three parts. During the first part, which is the longest, I give a very slow hand-job. I usually start out by dry-handing my victim which involves seizing his cock firmly and slowly sliding my hand up and down his shaft. Then I switch to titillating the head, again, very, very slowly. After I get tired of doing that, I either squirt some Astroglide on his organ or use my pussy juice as lubricant. I prefer my natural juices because that’s what they’re designed for. Now I slick his skin much faster. I keep a careful eye out to make sure that he’s not about to come. If he is, then I’ll remove my hand and let him wave about helplessly in the breeze. Or, if it looks like he’s too close, I put on the squeeze.
That’s what I did to Jim. I could tell from how sensitive and swollen his balls were that he had followed my instructions about not beating off for the previous 48 hours. Lucky for him that he did. He may have had a serious case of blue-balls, but that would be a long way better than busted balls. You see, around that time, I was getting seriously into ball busting, so I probably would have beaten his testicles into pulp if I had decided that he had cheated on me. A few years later, after I perfected my techniques, he would have been in even worse shape.
Anyway, I gave Jim’s cock the slow torture that comes from hanging on the edge of orgasm for twenty minutes without being allowed to go over it. He was moaning and gasping to beat the band. Since I was straddling his chest, he couldn’t see what I was doing, but he sure could feel it. Every time he got too near, I took my hand away and let his shaft desperately search for a hand or a mouth or a cunt to cum in. And, boy, was he desperate. After the third or fourth time, he started pleading with me to let him shoot. I just laughed and gave his balls a vicious squeeze. That turned his pleading into a high-pitched scream.
As he got more or more worked up, I concentrated my efforts on the tip of his cock. I rubbed some of my cunt juice around the mushroom head in light, rapid strokes. The noises out of his mouth were pretty incoherent. Then I pinched open his piss hole and touched the tip of my finger inside. It was as if I had jolted him with electricity: he nearly threw me off his body. I somehow managed to stay on top and hold him down. Then I did it again. Same response. When I got tired of that, I took both hands and stretched the skin of his scrotum as far as it would go and then scored it with my nails. Once again, his body took off and he screamed so loud that I was worried the motel manager might come try to find out what was happening.
Now it was time for the second step in my torture routine. I focused my fingers on the delicate underside of his cock, what I call the cum trigger. I frigged it rapidly, lubricated it and did it again. Within what seemed like no more than a few seconds, his breathing grew ragged and I recognized the tell-tale signs that he was about to come. He probably thought that I was going to shut his orgasm down again, but I had a new surprise in store. As he cried out that he was cumming, I put my palm over the head of his cock and blocked the opening. When his cum boiled up out of his balls and shot through his gigantic shaft, it ran into my hand and had nowhere to go. Two days’ worth of sperm backed up all the way down his organ. The pain must have been excruciating, at least to judge by the howls he was emitting behind my back. I kept my hand in place until the convulsions of his orgasm abated. When I lifted it off, the cum dribbled out, which robbed him of the pleasure of shooting his wad. I milked his shaft from the bottom up out, squeezing out all the remaining jizz.
Time for step three, the cruelest of all. I had been giving hand jobs now for some five years and had become quite an expert at them, if I do say so myself. One thing I learned pretty early on is that once a guy has cum, he really doesn’t like to be touched down there for quite a while. His orgasm seems to make the nerve endings in his genitals go haywire so that the touch of a girl’s fingers that had previously given him such pleasure now became almost intolerable.
I used Jim’s spunk for lubricant this time around and jacked his still hard cock rapidly.
“NOOOOOO,” he wailed.
Of course, that only egged me on. I rubbed my palm rapidly on top of his cock head, eliciting more desperate pleading: “Please, Nessa, please stop.” “Stop what?” I played with him. I kept it up until he starting sobbing hysterically, which was the reaction I was waiting for. I had reduced him to a sniveling slave.
Unfortunately for him, my victory started a new fire raging in my vagina. I was going to need another orgasm … and soon. Although my plan for Jim was to hold off allowing him to fuck me until I had gotten my tentacles into him further, I just couldn’t wait. It was a combination of what cock teasing a man always does to my cunt and having such a large specimen in my hands.
I reversed myself and faced Jim’s tear-streaked face. His hair was plastered with sweat, which gave me an idea. My hands were sticky with his cum so I wiped them off on his wet scalp. But I didn’t give him any to contemplate this latest humiliation.
“Get ready to get fucked, big boy,” I snarled and shoved his still-tumescent erection into my pussy. He was really in no mood for more sexual activity, even though, of course, he had been fantasizing about this exact moment ever since he first laid eyes on me. As I pounded up and down on his groin, his eyes looked like they were about to pop out of his head. He was screaming non-stop from the friction of my vagina on his hyper-sensitive cock. He probably would have fainted except that I was so close to cumming that it only took about a dozen strokes and a minute of strumming my clit until I had a mind-shattering second orgasm. I collapsed on his chest with his pole still buried deep inside me.
When I finally dismounted him, he looked at me with stunned disbelief. Here he thought he was going to get some good sex off of me and all he got was a painful milking and some post-coital torture. Meanwhile, I had gotten myself off twice.
“Why are you so mean, Nessa?” he asked me plaintively in a choked voice.
I smirked at him. “Because I can be,” I declared. “When a girl looks like this, she can do whatever she wants.” With those words, I got dressed and waltzed out of the motel room, leaving him to contemplate what an 18-year old bitch had just done to him.
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