Glory of Dawn 5

Derek glared and struggled, now quite sure that this whole setup was some sort of bizarre trick, and that the advertisement he had answered was far from truthful.

"Oh," Dawn taunted. "The big, strong man is glaring at me.  Why, I'll bet he'd teach me a lesson if he could get free."

Her mocking tone pushed his buttons exactly as she intended and he struggled even more, still glaring at her and trying to speak.  She started removing the contraption from over his genitals.

"Throw your little temper tantrum," she said calmly.  "It won't do you any good."

As she spoke she slowly began playing with his cock and balls.  In spite of his anger, he was beginning to writhe in arousal at her teasing touch.  She loosened his gag just enough for a little sound to escape, and then she went back to lightly teasing his cock.  His moans of anger were turning to whimpers of desire and frustration as she lightly blew on his cock and it stood straight up.  She just sat on the bed beside him, slowly caressing him every time he started to wilt.

After a while she went to the bathroom and found some vaseline.  Slowly and deliberately, making sure he was watching her every movement, she coated her right hand with it.   Just seeing her rub the slippery lubricant all over her hand was enough to make his cock harden. She clasped her greased hand around his hardness, and started giving him slow, agonizing strokes.

"Yes, the middle-aged out of shape pervert loves having the firm, hot young girl play with his dick, doesn't he?"

He only moaned.

"Nod and admit that you want me to play with it, or I'll stop," she smirked cruelly.

He nodded ‘Yes!’

"Good boy.  But you know that I would not really have stopped anyway?  It might be a pleasure for you right now, but soon it’s going to be torture, absolute torture.”

Dawn continued to stroke his hard cock.  The strokes were slow, insanely slow, slow to the point where his frustration became an agony.  The pleasure was being prolonged until it was no longer pleasure, until he was whimpering and begging for her to stroke faster and to give him the relief he now so badly needed, the relief that was always the finale of this act.  Such a pleasure tease could not go on forever; it was impossible, unthinkable, unbearable.

She could not understand anything he said, of course.  It was all incoherent moaning through the gag.  Not a word of it was understandable, but she knew what he wanted and he was not going to get it.  She knew, and she would continue to deny him.  Once he became as hard as it was possible for him to get, she would do one agonizingly slow stroke and then just let her hand keep going up, completely off his cock.  He raised up higher and higher, arching his back in an attempt to maintain contact with her hand for a few seconds longer.  She let him do it, knowing the straps would limit his reach, and laugh wildly as he reached the limit and still tried to push his pelvis higher.  Each time he strained and pulled, arching his back desperately only to collapse back onto the bed literally sobbing in frustration.  She sat beside him, laughing as he finally lost control and started arching his back again and again, thrusting up at the air and struggling at his bonds, torn between pointlessly moaning his rage at her and equally pointlessly begging her to give him relief.