Disclaimer: User-Generated Content with Erotic Material
The following story was submitted by a user and contains erotic content. It represents a personal fantasy or experience as told by the author. Tom Rocket’s explicitly distances itself from the content of this story and does not endorse or adopt any of the views or actions described. This publication is intended solely for the purpose of free expression and entertainment within the framework of our community guidelines.
I hadn’t expected it, and then my Dom’s words reached my ears. “From now on, orgasms are off limits for you until I allow it.” Then he simply reached for his coffee and continued reading the newspaper. I was still standing naked in the hallway, my body warm from his last touch and my erection standing stiff and unnoticed in the room. I could have laughed, asked him if he was serious. But I preferred to remain silent because I already knew he was serious. Any discussion would have only resulted in him coming up with more nasty prohibitions and punishments for me.
It wasn’t the first time he had pushed me to my limits, but this time it was different. It wasn’t a game for an evening or a playful spanking. It was a clear prohibition, and I had no idea when it would end. My body reacted immediately. I felt electrified. A single command, and I belonged to him even more than usual.
He just left me standing there, my cock twitching every second, and I realized that I was not a man with self-determination. I was his property, under his control, and I loved every bit of it.
The thrill of the forbidden
It was as if my body had received an update from one second to the next, a new operating system, everything felt different than usual. The cold water in the morning made me flinch, the fabric of my shorts became an instrument of torture, and every thought inevitably turned toward lust at some point.
Of course, he knew that because he knew me better than I knew myself. He knew that it wasn’t just the lack of orgasm that tormented me, but his power over me. This unspoken control that wrapped itself around my mind like an invisible rope. He didn’t have to tie me up; I was bound to his will.
He played with me, but never crudely or with sudden assaults. He was far too sophisticated for that. A sidelong glance when I rubbed myself furtively, a casual caress that ended exactly where I needed it most. And then there was the app. Months ago, he had gotten me a toy, discreet, powerful, and controllable by cell phone.
Needless to say, I wasn’t the one with the app on my phone, right? Sometimes I wore it to parties, on walks, and even while shopping. But it had never felt as forbidden as it did now. “Tonight,” he said on the third day, without looking at me, “you’ll put on the plug at 7 p.m.”
He didn’t say anything else, nor did he look up, but continued to work intently on his laptop. He had no doubt that I would obey, and I didn’t. My pulse began to race.
I’m electrified
I had already inserted the plug before 7 p.m., not out of obedience, but out of sheer impatience. A little lubricant and it slid into me as if by itself. I knew it would drive me to the brink of despair and I couldn’t do anything about it. When he came into the living room, I was lying on the sofa, seemingly uninvolved. Jogging pants, a tank top, and a heart pounding in my throat were my companions.
He sat down in the armchair opposite me, cell phone in hand. I watched his fingers slide across the screen. A blink of an eye later, my whole body tensed. I felt the buzzing deep inside me. Only for a moment, but long enough to make the blood rush to my cock.
“Say it,” he ordered me in a calm, cold voice.
“Thank you, sir,” I stammered quietly, and he smiled confidently. It was a typical smile of his, one that gave me warmth and frightened me. Then he simply did nothing more. He looked at the TV while I lay on the sofa, tense as a bowstring, not knowing what would happen next.
I tried to pay attention to the TV and didn’t notice that he was holding the cell phone in his hand again. Suddenly, a tremor shook my body, and my prostate was immediately ready to receive. It was only brief, but mercilessly deep. I whimpered and dug my hand into the back of the sofa. “Don’t touch yourself,” he warned as my hand naturally wanted to slide down to my cock. I hadn’t even noticed that I had moved.
“You won’t have an orgasm, you won’t release the pressure, not until I want you to,” he ordered, and I nodded. Obedient as I always was, tormented by my own weakness and horny.
There is no escape
The next day, he announced that we were going out. “Dress up nicely, but leave your boxers at home,” he ordered me, and I knew he was going to humiliate me in public. Lust built up inside me, and I felt as if my blood had been replaced by semen.
He took me to a restaurant with dim lighting, white tablecloths, and discreet waiters. I sat across from him, wearing tight chinos with nothing separating my skin from the fabric. And he sat across from me, eating, drinking, chatting, as if we were on a normal date. I had had the plug in me since yesterday, removing it only once briefly to go to the bathroom. With his consent, of course.
When he reached for his cell phone, I tensed up. I knew what was coming, and it came more intensely than I had anticipated. I visibly flinched because this time he didn’t send a short impulse, but shock waves through my blood. I put my fork aside and forced myself to breathe calmly. He looked at me and said nothing.
His gaze conveyed dominance, power, and pride in himself, not in me. “Are you okay?” he asked, seemingly concerned, and I nodded. “Then eat.” I was no longer myself, but a hostage to my swollen lust. I sat at a polite dinner among people in suits and neat outfits.
My body screamed with lust, my cock throbbed incessantly and rubbed against my tight pants, and I wanted to finally feel him. “No,” he said quietly, and I knew he had seen right through my thoughts.
We left the restaurant around ten, my legs were weak, my crotch was burning. He gave me no opportunity to breathe and relax. In the car, he put his hand dangerously close to my cock. Everything about this gesture indicated that I belonged to him.
“You’re close, huh?” I pressed my lips together and said nothing. He leaned toward me, his voice hot against my ear. “And that’s exactly why you won’t spill a single drop tonight.” I looked at him and knew he was completely serious.
Broken, yet ready
When we got home, he wouldn’t let me into the bedroom. “Bathroom,” he ordered curtly, and I obeyed. Still trapped in my tight pants, which now felt like a cage. My lower abdomen throbbed with desire, but I knew I had to remain silent. He kept me waiting; it felt like hours, but it was only minutes. I stood fully clothed in the dimly lit bathroom, feeling naked inside. Then he came in, walking slowly. “Undress,” he ordered me, and I trembled as I undressed. Every millimeter of fabric that left my skin brought me closer to explosion. I wasn’t allowed to, still not.
He stood behind me, ran his fingers over my neck, then down my back and down to my tailbone. “You’re soft with lust,” he whispered. “Still, you can’t, because I don’t want you to,” he added, and I closed my eyes.
His hand slid between my legs, finding me hard and dripping with desire. “You’re so tense,” he murmured. “And none of it belongs to you.”
I moaned in agony. It was a sound I didn’t want to make, but it just came out of my throat. He pressed down hard, not brutally, but demandingly. I flinched and gasped for air. Then he pulled his hand back as if he had burned himself. “On your knees,” he ordered me, and I obeyed.
He stood in front of me, and I knew exactly what he wanted and what he allowed me to do. Not my orgasm or my release, but his.
I took him in my mouth as if the only thing that had ever interested me in this life was his cock. He took a deep breath and his fingers dug into my hair. H