Saucy Sketch Tuesday #46 (Patreon)

The mechanical clocks in the attic beat out the seconds of his corporal punishment. At first, he had tried to keep track of the time, but the seconds bled into each other and the numbers fell apart in his head like over-cooked noodles. The faces of the clocks were just out of view, turned deliberately away from him.

And then, emerging from the steady ticking, came the sound of someone climbing the wooden staircase outside. Someone in heels. He held his breath as that someone approached the door and undid the latch.

"How are you holding up?" his Mistress asked with a smile, coming around  into his line of sight. Her eyes took in the sight of him, arched over a padded leather stool, bound and immobile. His erection protruded from his hips, hot and throbbing, and she gave it a playful flick. His breath hitched.

"I... I want to cum, Mistress," he said.

"Is that so?" she asked him, tilting her head to examine him. "Do you deserve to cum?"

"...No." The word left him in a breathless sob. She had edged him mercilessly over the course of the afternoon, leaving him for long stretches in between, and he did not know how much longer he could take it. At the thought of her leaving him like this again, his eyes filled with tears.

"Oh, shhh," she said lovingly, stroking his hair. "It will be all right. I think you've learned your lesson, haven't you, my love?"

"Yes," he pleaded, looking up into her crinkled, amused gaze. "Yes, Mistress, I have."

She glanced down at the thin silver watch that encircled her narrow wrist. "Well, then, perhaps I can relent. Just this once."

"Thank you, Mistress... Thank you!" he wept.

She reached over and, slicking her hand with some lubricant, slipped off the cock ring that had maintained his erection. Swishing her skirts aside, she stepped up and mounted the stool, sliding her wet cunt right down on his cock. He gave a soft gasp as he felt the weight of her settle over his hips.

She began to move her hips, sliding on his cock as the slippery folds of her sex swallowed him deeper. His eyes rolled back into his head and he gave an involuntary moan of pleasure at the sensations that overcame him. Faster she moved, and faster, until she was riding him like a toy horse. Pushed back into the leather padding, his head bobbing uselessly in thin air, he allowed himself to spiral down into the dark, unmitigated pleasure he'd been denied for so long. The dusty surroundings of the attic faded; his attention was completely concentrated where their bodies joined and broke in a passionate, relentless rhythm. With a sudden surge of sensation, he felt himself release at last, ejaculating deep into her body. She came herself just moments after he, throwing back her head and giving an exultant cry of triumph and carnal satisfaction.

When she finally undid the straps that locked him in place, he collapsed onto the hard wooden floor, his limbs trembling uncontrollably. His skin was covered in a sheen of sweat, and his cock was filthy with the excretions of their mingled orgasms. She gently put a hand on his sweat-dampened hair, then reached for one of the fleece blankets that lay folded neatly on an overhead shelf. She draped it around his naked body, then sat down beside him and pulled him close until he was held in the comfort of her warm embrace.

"There, there," she murmured into his ear, stroking his hair. "See? All is forgiven."

He couldn't muster a reply in that moment, but he turned his face into her neck, and she understood.

They sat for a long time like that, him breathing in her scent, her stroking his hair. The minutes ticked by, but neither of them made a move to break the spell of the moment.

Tick, tock... tick tock...