Blissful Torment

In a small coffee shop in the middle of downtown San Francisco in the late afternoon, a couple was brooding over a pile of documents between them, mostly handwritten, but some printed, even including graphs and tables.

"So... I guess we have an agreement on how to resolve this..." Vincent mumbled, looking at the papers in front of him with some consternation. It was a very long list of pros and cons, trade-offs, arguments, deals, suggestions, and other ideas.

"Yes," Emilia answered in a sombre tone, "It seems we have no other choice. This is the only way to resolve this conflict."

"Alright," He replied with a nod. "So to restate: Starting now at," he checked his phone, "6pm, neither of us is allowed to have an orgasm until noon tomorrow. Every even hour, I get to play with you. Every odd hour you get to torture me. Whoever gives up or orgasms loses a point. At the end of the 18 hours whoever has more points wins."

He looked up from the paper and made an angry face "Even if that's you and you'll make the worst decision ever."

"Yes, I agree." She stated calmly.

He downed his cold-brewed coffee in one swoop and said menacingly: "Let the games begin!"

He quickly shoved the papers into his backpack. "Come." He said, and walked towards the bathroom. She soon followed.

They barely managed to get into a stall, both much too turned on by what was about to go down. "Bend over" he grunted at her, then ripped her panties off (she would just have to go without for the rest of the night and day) and slammed his face into her cunt. Some people gently lick and nibble, but Vincent just devoured her pussy instead. She did not stand a chance, and despite trying hard, she soon came hard.

"Yeah this is going to be easy." Her remarked, licking her wetness from his lips. "I'm going to make you cum every hour easily. You don't stand a chance." 

She just shot him an angry glance. But was it really anger? He could swear there was calculation in her eyes.

They freshened up before sneaking out, trying to avoid looking guilty. They agreed to split up to make some purchases and meet again at 7 pm, with any latecomer forfeiting their next hour's point immediately.

When they met again at 7:05, Emilia was late. Grumbling she admitted to defeat for the 8pm round, and starting with a disadvantage into the 7pm bout. But she could tell Vincent was looking forward to giving up a few points early. He had a visible bulge in his pants. It did not take them long to find a quiet corner behind some bushes in a large private garden, and they used the verdant green to shield themselves from the street. When she pulled out his cock it was already dripping precum.

"Oh come on, you're not even trying." She chided, before taking him into her mouth, and sucking the head while she used her hands to stroke the shaft. 

"Not really!" he admitted in a grunt as he exploded down her throat. She spit half of it into the greens as she nearly choked on it.

They used the remainder of that hour plus the forfeited 8pm round to have dinner in peace. At least until the desert came, and Emilia's phone dinged 9pm. She slipped a foot from her pumps, and slid it between her husband's legs under the tablecloth, then gently started massaging his soon erect cock with her toes, while she was lasciviously licking every spoon of her ice cream, showing off as he was forced to watch.

"Fuck I am going to cum in my pants if you don't stop." He groaned with a pained expression.

"You can concede the point?" She offered with a wink as she kept stroking.

He did not reply. She could feel his cock twitch under her foot, and she saw him close his eyes and clench his fists until the orgasm had passed him.

They paid, and left for home, him walking a bit awkward with a wet mess in his pants. She did not pity him, having "enjoyed" her exposed pussy dripping down her leg for hours.

They got home just in time for the 10pm round. He made her undress at the bottom of the stairs of their apartment complex, and walk up all seven flights completely naked except for her heels. He just lazily took the elevator.

She arrived at the top with scarlet red cheeks, unclear whether from the exertion or the exposure. He pulled her inside their flat, and before she had recovered he slapped his cum-stained boxers into her face, making her breath in his smell, making her feel like a dirty whore. He knew it only turned her on more, halfhearted complaints purely for show. He pushed her against the wall and fingered her to orgasm with ease.

One hot shower later, at 11, she sat him down in front of the TV, put on his favourite kind of porn (lesbian denial and edging), and passed him a blue pill with a malevolent grin.

"You're not serious?" He looked at her, taken off guard.

"This is serious." She said. "Swallow."

He did as he was told. It barely took fifteen minutes before it showed effect. His cock was as big and hard as it had never been, and he was very aware of how having no control and his body downright betraying him just turned him on more.

She lounged on the sofa next to him, and cupped his balls in one hand, looking him in the eye and licking over the tip with her tongue. 

"So you don't want to give up..." she murmured, "I will make you regret that..."

Slowly, she started to lick his rock-hard cock. Gently she played with his balls. When he glanced at the clock, already panting and sweating in frustration, he still had half an hour to go. He tried to grab his dick and get himself off, but she batted his hands away.

"Ah-ah-ah, no masturbation. You only get what I do to you." And after a second, she added, "And don't even think about cuming in the odd hours. That will also count against you." 

As much as this was to his disadvantage, he could not deny that it was the only sensible way to interpret the rules without breaking the game's intentions. He was forced to sit there and just take it: Lesbians on the TV, and cock-sucking wife between his legs. Soon he could not take it any more: 

"Alright, alright!! I officially concede the 11pm round."

She snickered in triumph, and let go.

"What, do I not get to cum?" he asked, surprised.

"Of course not." She grinned, "It will be so much easier next time if you don't."

He knew then that he was doomed unless he came up with a new strategy.

At midnight, he made her cum with a vibrator.

At 1am, she woke him with another slow and teasing blowjob. He did not even last five minutes before he called it.

At 2am, it took quite a while to get her off with vibrator and fingers combined.

At 3am, she groggily dragged her fingertips up and down his still painfully throbbing shaft a couple times before he cursed loudly and angrily conceded another round, being exhausted, tired and much too frustrated.

At 4am, he forced another orgasm out of her by means of their strongest magic wand.

After that they were both spent, and agreed on a truce for four hours.

At 8am, she woke him once more with a nice morning blowjob, but of course not to completion. The viagra had worn off, but his pants were a mess of precum, and he had dreamt of sex and demons and sex demons (aka his wife). He lasted a fair bit longer than the last time, but 20 minutes was still far from what he would have needed to do. They also noticed that it would have been his turn, but some quick maths confirmed that apart from the change in order, it would not disadvantage either side.

At 9am, she found herself tied up tightly, arms above her head, legs spread wide open. 

"I don't think I can cum any more." She said, feeling exhausted.

"I wasn't planning to make you." He replied, a gleam of confidence back on his face. He was carrying a paint brush in his left hand. "Let's see how this goes?"

He put the brush against her foot soles, and started rubbing them. Instantly, her exhaustion was gone, and replaced with terror. She cried out in laughter, unable to hold back. "HAHAHAhaaaha, PLeaahhAahahasse Stoppaahahaha!"

Of course he did not. He clamped one hand over her mouth, not letting her concede before he'd tortured her enough, and went for her wide open armpits with his fingers. She writhed and squirmed, and he was glad he had used the strong ropes and not the flimsy cuffs. He was sure Emilia would have hulked right out of them.

After a couple minutes, he stopped and let her talk.

"FUCK YOU!" She screamed, "That was awful!"

"Do you give up?" He asked calmly, one finger resting against her armpit and making her flinch.

"Yes of course! No more, please!"

"Good. This will be an easy win then." He undid the tie on one hand, and let her get herself free.

At 10am, she straight up asked him if he'd concede without her even trying, and she could tell he was considering it. But his pride was too big (and also who doesn't like to watch their hot wife sucking one's dick, even if it's torture), and she had to spend ten minutes playing with his shaft to get her point.

At 11am, the final hour dawned. He told her to come to the balcony, where he made her sit on his lap. Then he slipped his hands onto her sides, and gently brushed his fingertips over the lower front of her stomach. She started squirming immediately. 

"Oh no, pleaaase. That's awful. I'm so ticklish there..." she whimpered, biting back laughs, not wanting the neighbours to hear.

"I know." He whispered into her ear, smelling her neck, enjoying her aroma of sweat and arousal and terror. 

His fingers kept dancing over her stomach, then down her legs, sometimes brushing her clit or pussy, going back up, and finally resting in her armpits. When he started tickling in earnest, she could not help herself. She giggled with both her hands over her mouth, she started laughing and crying all at once, and then when she was all out of breath she slapped his arms to concede.

After she had regained her breath, they looked at each other in annoyance, both mentally counting their points.

"It's a draw." They said at the same time.

"So what now?" He asked, uncertain.

Her face lit up in glee. "Well, of course the only way to resolve this is to do another round."

"Right, I believe we even agreed on that. It's a bit hazy though. For some reason I have a very vague memory of yesterday," he joked, "but in a good way." He winked.

She nodded, and then joyfully said, "You know... You won't ever not give up, because the teasing and denial will make it worse and worse. Every time we tie after a day, we go again. Sure, you get to tickle me, but that passes, and I can just concede quickly. I am confident both of us will get every single point that way."

She gave him her most wicked smile, "But for me there are no repercussions. But you won't ever orgasm until I win."

He flopped back into his chair. "Oh damn you witch! You knew this was going to happen! You played me!"

She just sat down on the other chair nonchalantly, and shrugged, "I might have considered it."

Vincent threw his hands up in the air, and shook his head: "Alright, you win. We get a fucking cat and not a dog!"

This was a writing challenge, trying to use the following list of words (either literally or as a concept): Unexpected, verdant garden, San Francisco, cold-brew coffee, eighteen hour cum denial, tickling, humor, hold-the-moan (or laughs), groping.

Copyright 2019-06-26 Blissful Torment