Please read 'My Pet Sam' before this story, to understand exactly how Sam came to be my little toy!
*
Poor Sam. Poor, poor Sam. I thought I should add a little more to his story, considering the fun I've just had with him. I did something I told him many, many times over the past few months I could never do.
I've teased him, fucked him, bound him tighter, sucked his dick, stroked his dick, forced him to listen to the erotic stories I write, playing with him, made him cry with frustration. I would tickle and nip his pink nipples, lubing my fingers and running the very tips lightly over those sensitive little points. I bought a vibrating fleshlight, so both his dick and his ass would be buzzing all night and all day. In short, I control his world, his feelings, his pleasure and pain.
One day, I even tortured him by pretending I was finally going to allow him to cum. After weeks of being helplessly kept at the edge of climax, I was finally going to fuck him, take off his cock ring, and feel him cum deep inside me. When I reached down to his balls to take it off, however, I pretended it was stuck. I told him I couldn't get it off. I went as far as to go get some lube to stroke over him (god did he moan when I did that) to try and ease it off, still pretending there was no luck. He groaned and whimpered and bucked his hips while I pretended to panic. I even pulled him onto my lap and apologised, promising if I could let him free I would, but since there was no way, I'd take the best care of him I could... Stroking his hair and feeling him weakly jolt and shudder, I couldn't help but wonder how helpless he must be feeling.
***The day she tortured me like that, oh man I still remember it when I'm lying awake at night struggling... how she held me close and whispered to me if she could let me cum she would, but now it was impossible... Knowing it was no longer in anyone's control, not mine, not hers... It turned me on more than I could believe. Stupid thing to say for someone in my situation, I know, but honestly I think even if I wasn't being repeatedly pleasured to the brink of orgasm multiple times daily, I think I'd get off on it. Either that or she's turned me into a massive masochist...
She kept it up for days, bringing me my favourite food, talking sweet to me, not teasing me... which, in my situation, kind of just made things worse. However, for those few days, I felt like I was in heaven - I was the ultimate toy, plaything of fate, nobody or nothing could end this eternal subspace of pleasure and torture and feeling... so so close... forever...
When she finally laughed at me, telling me she was still in total control and could free me whenever she chose, I felt myself jerked back to reality harshly. What a cruel trick to play on me... but I loved her for it... It gave me a wave of both relief and arousal - she was very much in command, and I was as much under her control as I ever was. She wouldn't let any harm come to me... but, no matter how much I begged, she still wouldn't let me cum... ****
But, finally, one day a fortnight ago, on a whim, I let Sam climax. I went in his little room, as usual, bringing him something warm to drink (I'd got in the habit of bottle-feeding him... it made even mealtimes feel like an exercise in teaching him who controlled his life, and meant I didn't have to unbind him in the slightest). Those big brown eyes met mine and he greeted me with his usual whine and wriggle to try to make the simple task of replacing the batteries in his vibrator a chore. He nuzzled me as I fed him, and I worried for a moment he was getting too comfortable with his routine. I was also struck by curiosity - what does he think about? When he's ungagged, he usually just howls my name, or begs "please... please..." over and over, but what about when he's alone? I wondered if Sam was still in there, Sam who brought me coffee every morning with a cheeky grin and a flirty wink, who tried to impress me with stories about Peru and the mountains he was planning on trekking.
So, on a spontaneous whim, when he was finished drinking and rubbing his cheek against my arm softly, I pushed him away. I climbed between the bar holding his knees apart and his dick, and pulled off the fleshlight. This wasn't unusual, I often got into this position before sucking him off, so he didn't squirm too much. Then, his eyes found mine. I don't know why, he must have realised something was about to happen, as he suddenly panicked. He began thrashing - or, at least, as much as he could, being tied wrist to ankle and shin to thigh. It was more of a weak rocking than a thrashing, but I knew the amount of effort that required.
"Stop." I ordered him, and his eyes went wide with terror. I took hold of his erection, and rubbed my hand up and down. He struggled against me, clenching his fists, pushing his hips upwards through my hand to maximise the sensation... thinking, as usual, that it would all be for nothing when I decided his torture was through.
Instead, I sat up higher so his dick pointed straight at his face, rubbed him at a pace I knew was driving him mad, and slipped off the cock ring.
The effect was explosive. With a hoarse yelp of shock, pain and overwhelming pleasure, he shot his load hard onto his face, chest, and mattress.
