Blissful Torment

You did not notice what was happening until it was too late.

It all began on a lazy Saturday morning. He went to the bathroom and had a glass of water, then returned to bed, cuddling a little, gently stroking your skin, giving you small kisses. He snuck a hand between your legs, and played with you, making you squirm and moan for more. But instead he pushed your head towards his crotch. You rolled your eyes, but complied anyway, taking his hard shaft between your lips, enjoying how hot and throbbing it was. 

"I want you to swallow," he said. You gave him an annoyed look. "Please, just this once," he said, "it's a huge turn-on."

*This better be worth it*, you thought.

He tasted salty, a little bitter even, with a strange metallic aftertaste. Like the good girl that you are, you forced it down just to please him while holding eye contact, in three big gulps.

"You enjoy swallowing cum," he said, looking back at you, judging your reaction.

"Not really?" you immediately answered, but then you found yourself blushing. Were you lying? You thought hard about it, and yes, he was right: You felt that you did enjoy it, even though you remembered that you had not been looking forward to it just moments ago.

He just gave you a knowing grin.

A couple days passed. Work, food, sleep, fuck, all ordinary, and yet when he fucked you, and threw the condom away, you felt your mouth salivate at the thought of that load hitting your throat instead.

On the next day Netflix' program really did not tickle your fancy, and you started idly playing with his cock over his pants. He gave you a look and grumbled, "Let me go to the bathroom quick." Horny, you waited eagerly for him to return. You listened to the toilet flush and to him washing his hand which seemed to take forever, but then finally he settled back down onto the sofa.

Moments later you had his beautiful cock out and your head was bobbing on it. The precum was just delicious. When he started bucking, you tightly closed your lips around him, and greedily sucked down his cum. It tasted so good. Sweet and smooth like honey.

"You are always horny," he mumbled as he sank back, exhausted, stroking your hair.

He was right. Your pussy was throbbing. Your clit aching for touch. The fabric of your shirt caressed your nipples. How had you not noticed? 

You looked at his dick, still wet with your spit, but sadly limp and small.

He rolled his eyes when he saw your begging face. "Alright, scoot over," he said.

Eagerly you tore off your pants, and shoved your crotch onto his lap. Did his face betray surprise? But then his hands found your sensitive spots, and you closed your eyes in bliss. He know what and how to touch, and it took just a couple minutes for you to feel yourself clench around two of his fingers, breath quickening, climax washing over you.

You lay there, dripping onto his jeans, him giving you a sly smile as your body became soft and tranquil. But you did not feel satisfied. One orgasm was not nearly enough. You wanted more. So did he. Cock erect again, waiting for your warm embrace.

You climbed onto him, the show on the screen completely forgotten, and guided his erection into yourself. He filled you so perfectly, it was exquisite. Like in a trance, you rode him hard, the tiredness in your legs barely noticed. He stared up at you in amazement. You rarely took the lead, much less after an orgasm. But you were so aroused, so horny.

"I'm close. I'm not wearing a condom!" he said, with some alarm in his voice.

Another load? You jumped off, and knelt in front of him. His cock was slick with your juices, drenched even, but you took him into your mouth without hesitation. You sucked, you licked, you just wanted his sweet nectar. His second orgasm made him groan and spasm with a slightly pained expression. It still tasted so unbelievably good. 

"You cum too much," he pressed out between heavy breaths, as if he had prepared the sentence and waited to say it, "ask me for permission from now on."

What a silly idea. Why would he even state such a dumb thing? You shook your head in disagreement, but your mouth said, "Okay, I won't cum without permission."

"Anything the matter? You have such a confused expression on your face," he replied, but his tone did not seem concerned but rather teasing.

You tried to answer, but ended up just stuttering. Clearly he was right. You came way too often. Probably once or two a month would be enough. Honestly, he should decide. Sure, you were very horny, but clearly he had a better grasp of how many orgasms you really needed.

"Can I just edge then?" you asked.

"Sure, you can edge as much as you like," he answered, sly grin on his face.

So you sat down next to him, and kept playing with your clit until the film ended and you went to bed. You spent most of the weekend with a hand between your legs, constantly rubbing and teasing yourself. You were so aroused, you just needed it, even though it did not help.

In the following weeks, you fucked a lot, nearly every day. An outside would have noticed a pattern, but you did not: One, you would let him cum into your mouth, swirl it around your tongue, and then greedily swallow it all. Two, he would state a fact, and it was always true.

"You only wear skimpy clothing." -- You bought more thongs, short sundresses, went without bra, proudly showing off your constantly hard nipples.

"You play with your clit every day for an hour." -- Of course you did. It was hard to stop. 

"You want to train your asshole." -- It was good fortune that just a day earlier he had ordered ordered a set of different sized buttplugs. 

"You don't wear panties in public." -- Panties sucked. They were always drenched and annoying. It was much better to feel yourself drip wherever you walked.

"You call me Master." -- Of course you called Master Master. What else would you call Master?

"You don't talk back." -- You were too busy anyway. Now you could focus on what was important: Edging, being aroused, and sucking cock.

"You do what I tell you to." -- Master knew best.

"You are my slut and slave." -- You were.

One day, when you were cleaning the house, wearing a fat buttplug, kegel balls, and a chastity belt over it, your only piece of clothing a tight breast harness and nipple clamps, you found a bottle of purple pills, hidden deep in the cupboard in the bathroom. The bottle was nearly empty. Curious, you had a look at the text, trying hard to focus on reading while your pussy kept clenching in desperate need for attention and respite.

The label explained in no unclear terms that this drug was applied by a man taking it, and then having someone soon after eat their semen. It would make the imbiber open to any suggestion, and they would accept it as truth, provided it was not completely unreasonable. The text advised to use small but escalating orders for best results. The effects would gradually wear off again if the dosage fell below one pill per week.

Suddenly you understood. This was what had happened, weeks ago. Master had used these pills to make you into the submissive slut that you now were. You felt relief at understanding it, as your memories of a very different life had been bothering you. Finally, the confusion was gone. Everything made sense.

You nodded to yourself, and put the bottle back. You wrote a note to Master, and pinned it to the fridge. It said:

"Dear Master, please do not forget that the mind control effect you put on me will start to wear out tomorrow, unless I suck your wonderful cock today. We need to order a second bottle soon, it's nearly empty. Lovingly, your slave."

You had to warn Master before the effect would wear out. Anything else was utterly unthinkable for a good girl like you.

2019-12-14, Blissful Torment.