First, he dresses you up in frilly, satin panties, in a nice pastel pink, one of his favorite colors on you, and a thin, matching camisole. Then, he sits you down in front of the table, where a glass and a full pitcher of water wait for you. Sir fills the glass and hands it to you wordlessly, and you know what you have to do. Today, you will be practicing your endurance for him and, if past experiences are anything to go off of, you will not be able to meet his very lofty standards.
Well, it’s not as if he doesn’t prefer it that way.
“Now, remember, princess, you have to drink that entire pitcher,” he reminds you, stepping back behind you to watch over you. “You can take it at whatever pace you need to, to avoid making yourself sick, but you absolutely have to drain it dry. After that, I’ll give you further instruction.”
It doesn’t take long for you to start to feel a pressure in your bladder, and you wonder if that’s partially due to how nervous you are. Whatever the case, you start out knocking back glasses as quickly as you can, but soon have to slow down. Once the pressure really starts to get to you, it’s difficult for you to keep up any sort of pace at all, and you can’t sit still, squirming in your seat.
When you pause for just a moment too long, Sir steps forward again, filling a glass and holding it out to you, a hollow smile on his face. Your hand shakes as you take it, and you drink it slowly, your bladder twinging in protest. You try your damnedest to pick your pace back up, but it feels like an eternity before you’ve drained the pitcher completely. Sir claps a hand on your shoulder as he says, “Very good, princess.”
“Now what?” you ask in a shaky voice, already knowing the answer.
“Now, you wait two hours.”
“ Two ?” you whine, because it’s always just been one in the past, and you’ve never even made it that long before.
“Come now, princess,” he scolds. “Don’t you want to at least try to hold it for me?”
“Yes, Sir,” you mumble, squirming again. Already, you feel as though you could burst; there’s no way in hell you could make it another two hours. But, then again, he already knows that as well.
“What a good girl,” he muses. “For that, I think you deserve a reward. Perhaps a distraction to make the time go faster?”
He kneels down behind your chair, wrapping his arms around you and placing his mouth to your neck, and you already know that this “reward” is only going to help spell your doom. While he kisses and nibbles at your neck, he brushes a hand over the camisole, and it is so thin that he can already feel your nipples standing up, and you can feel as his hand brushes over one, causing you to squeak.
“Are you really that sensitive?” he asks, amused, and you squirm. At first, he only teases you over the thin fabric, pinching at your nipple until you’re writhing, before he pushes his hand down, underneath it. He sinks his teeth hard into your neck as his fingers first make contact with bare skin and you squeak, jamming a hand into your lap, afraid for a moment that you’re already about to lose control.
“Touching yourself already, princess?” He sounds disappointed, his voice muffled against your neck.
“N-no, I just…”
“Having trouble holding it, then?”
“Well, you’ve got quite a long wait, you know,” he replies, nipping at your neck and causing you to squeak.
“I-I know, Sir,” she breathe. Though you are mostly desperate, it’s true that all of his is turning you on quite a bit. Knowing he’s disappointed in you, having him watch you while you struggle to hold it, and the way he kisses and bites you, the way he teases your nipples, leaves you desperate for more than just relief. You want him so badly that you can hardly stand it, and you know that’s what he’s counting on.
The longer he keeps it up, the harder it is for you to resist, the harder it is for you to hide that you want him so badly that it’s driving you absolutely mad. Sir tilts his face up against your ear, nibbling at the lobe before he murmurs, “Princess, you know that you only have to ask and I’ll give it to you. Well, as long as you aren’t asking for your time to be shortened, that is.”
“Sir, I…” You can barely speak, your breathing is so uneven, but somehow you manage to say it. “Please, help me.”
“And how do you want me to help you?”
“I-I don’t care, just...anything!”
“Stand up, princess. That is, if you can.” You’re trembling as you do, but you manage to do as he says. “Now, come here.” You step into is open arms and he pulls you close, his leg suddenly between yours as he supports your weight. “You can use me like this. How about that?”
There is something so very demeaning about being made to get off like this, and yet you love it more than you could possibly say. Then again, enjoying being demeaned is kind of becoming your thing. And you like this, you really like this, the way it feels to behave so shamelessly, grinding yourself against his leg and knowing that you’ll be able to get off on it, that you have so many times before. All the while, your bladder protests, you’re so close to your limit and this is only making it worse, but by now, you want him so badly that you can’t hold back.
You can’t hold back until you’re there, and though that takes an embarrassingly short amount of time, given the method, it’s still too long, and it’s while you’re clinging to him, trembling with your orgasm, that your bladder finally gives out. Sir is still dressed in his gray suit, and while you soak through your panties, you drench the leg of it, the fabric darkening as it too is soaked through.
“Princess…” he sighs with a heavy sigh, as if he does not quite believe that you’d do something like this. His disappointment is enough to prolong your orgasm, and you’re still trembling even while he scolds you. “Princess, I hope you know you’re in a lot of trouble right now. You really couldn’t hold it any longer? We aren’t even done with the first hour, let alone the second.”
“I...I’m sorry, Sir,” you say, your voice shaking, though it isn’t due to nerves, or anything of that sort.
“Not to mention the fact that you didn’t even ask me if you could finish.” He shakes his head, pulling back from you and letting you get a good look at the disappointed look on his face. “I’m going to have to take very severe measures to punish you.”
“Please,” you can’t help but gasp, and he chuckles.
“I wouldn’t expect anything less from someone so...pathetic.” He yanks your panties down, but does not make you remove them, and instead goes to fetch a rather familiar object. Or, at least, one of many familiar objects.
The two of you have worked your way through a couple toys now, and every time you “graduate”, you get something bigger, big enough to stretch you. He gets down in front of you, maintaining eye contact all the while, and begins to fit it inside of you. It doesn’t take as much effort as it once did, and he sighs, saying, “You’re really going to need something bigger soon? Punishing you is taking more effort than it should, princess. You really need to behave yourself more.”
He pulls your panties back up, and shows you the remote that controls the toy before making a show of contemplating what level it should be on, and cranking it all the way up. For a moment, you’re so overwhelmed by the sensation that your knees buckle, but he is there to support you and make sure that you don’t collapse so suddenly.
“Remember that this is a punishment , princess, I don’t want you getting off on that without my permission,” he says, and once you are steady, he takes your hand and guides you back to your chair, sitting down first and giving you a look. “Over my lap.”
You don’t hesitate to do as he tells you, kneeling over his lap and bracing yourself as he raises his hand. When his palm first strikes you, you let out a scream, and if he can tell that it’s more out of pleasure than pain, he pretends to ignore that. He strikes you again, and again, harder each time, but that, combined with the toy buzzing away inside of you, only pushes you closer.
And, perhaps, so does the desire to defy him, because it isn’t long at all before a strike from his palm leaves you crying out with another orgasm. He halts his punishment, giving you a moment to ride it out and catch your breath before he scolds you, his voice so low and deliciously disappointed that it’s almost too much for you. “Princess, I made myself very clear. If you can’t even accept a punishment , I really don’t know what I’m going to do with you.”
Sir commands you to stand back up, and you’re so breathless you can’t even try to fake an apology for your behavior. He yanks your panties down again and you let him take them this time, moaning softly as you watch him hold them close to his face, inhaling deeply with that look , before slipping them into his pocket, not seeming to mind how soaked they are. Well, his pants are soaked as well, so he doesn’t have much left to lose.
When he switches off the toy, you whine, and when he pulls it out, you start to protest, but he silences you with a look. “Back on my lap, princess,” he says. “If there’s nothing left I can to do you, I might as well fuck you. Since it seems that’s all you’re really good for.” He unfastens his pants and pulls down his zipper and he frees his cock; he’s been hard for quite some time now, and yet, as always, he’s shown perfect restraint.
You climb onto his lap, and he holds onto your waist, keeping you steady as he pulls you down, allowing you to sink onto his cock. The slight groan he lets out upon being buried inside of you is his first outward sign that he wants this just as badly as you do. Really, it doesn’t take you very long riding him to come yet again, but this time, he doesn’t tease you or scold you for how quickly you finish.
In fact, he isn’t far beyond you, letting out a soft grunt as he comes, his fingers digging into your side a bit. You slump down onto him, and he holds you in his lap, both you taking some time to catch your breath together. Sir pats your back gently, and eventually, when he can speak again, says, “That really wasn’t a very effective punishment, was it?”
He takes care of most of the cleanup himself, and then gets into the shower with you. After that, he takes his time drying you off and dressing you in soft pajamas, and even goes so far as to carry you to bed, laying you down while he finishes getting ready for bed. Sir climbs into bed behind you, pulling you close to him, and you’re so tired that you can already feel yourself starting to drift off. He has to be tired too, but he still holds you protectively.
“You know,” he murmurs, not long before you fall asleep, “I don’t mind if my little princess never learns to hold it.”