Clem balled his fists tighter, willed himself not to grab his cock and bring himself to orgasm. Kathryn’s laughter tinkled behind him, followed by a shuffling of grass. She kicked his feet, signifying he should spread his legs. He complied. The shift of position widened his arse crack. Cool air burrowed in the new space and kissed the underside of his sac. Clem ground his teeth and blinked away tears of gratitude that his wife had roused him from sleep and brought him outside.
More shuffling. His wife’s breasts pressed against his back, and her warm breath fanned his ear. “Would you like release, Husband?”
God, how he wanted release, and yet…he did not. He could not work out if the denial gave him more pleasure. Images of them coupling plagued him daily, but his Kathryn thought nothing of taunting him, spread-eagled on their pallet, fingertips teasing her sensitive spot. Each time he kneeled beside their bed and watched, unable to give himself the same pleasure she experienced. What was it about forced abstinence that intrigued him so? Oh, he knew the answer to that. If his self-restraint pleased her, gave her happiness, then he would continue on this path. Anything to keep her content: his.
“Only if it is your wish, Kathryn.”
The end of the makeshift whip trailed from one wrist, up his arm, across his shoulders, and down the other side. Goose flesh peppered Clem’s skin. He shivered. Anticipation raged through him, and he closed his eyes for a brief moment as the whip made its return journey.
“I wish it,” she whispered.
He opened his eyes. Had he heard correctly? It would not be the first time his wish had been granted only to be retracted. The whip landed on the grass beside him, and Kathryn’s hands smoothed his rounded shoulders. Her thumbs massaged his nape. She nestled closer, her pubic hair tickling his arse.
“You may touch yourself,” she said and moved her hands, caressing either side of his balls. She licked between his shoulder blades. “Touch yourself now.” |
