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I pull my dress slightly over my hips, slipping my panties down to my ankles and watching Akim’s face as he takes me in with his eyes. He looks like it’s taking everything in him not to pull me towards him and devour me.
My fingers inch towards my pussy as a thousand thoughts run through my head. Part of me is terrified that I’ll like this so much that it awakens something devious and uncontrollable in me, something that will get me into huge trouble when it takes over me.
But what trouble could I get into that I’m not already in?
I start by running my finger lightly over my slit, just like Akim was. Feeling the skin-to-skin contact with no barrier of underwear feels incredible, and I feel warm all over as I rub my clit just a bit more firmly.
“How does that feel?” he asks, stone-faced and with a dark, grumbling voice.
“It... it feels incredible,” I say breathlessly, feeling myself getting hotter as he speaks to me. Having him looking at me is one thing; asking me to answer questions for him while I masturbate makes me feel even more exposed.
“Focus on your clit more,” he commands. “I want to see you explode.”
I hesitate, fearing that I’ll make myself climax too fast if I do as he says. It sounds like that’s his intention, to urge me into embarrassing myself in front of him.
“Do it,” he commands again.
But before I’m able to do anything, he reaches between my legs and starts to rub my clit himself. “Do I really need to show you how to pleasure yourself?” he asks, rubbing rhythmic circles with his fingertips.
I can’t even respond in words. I simply whimper quietly, doing my best to maintain my composure and failing. My legs are trembling even worse now, and I know he can feel it. I can’t hide from him at all.
“Makes you want more, doesn’t it? Does it make you want to cum?” he asks, standing up and stroking my hair with his other hand as he looks down at me.
He places me between himself and the desk, pressing me against it as his touch becomes firmer and more intentioned. He wants to make me cum, and he’s going to if he continues.
My eyes roll into the back of my head, and I start moaning louder as I feel the pressure building behind my clit. The sweet effervescence of a building orgasm radiates between my legs until I’m nearly standing on my toes, waiting to be pushed over the edge into the most intense orgasm of my life.
Then, he stops.
“That’s how it feels,” he says, crossing his arms to signify the end of my ascent toward climax.
“Please,” I whine, suddenly feeling just as strongly about getting off as I did about masturbating in front of him in the first place. “I need it,” I continue, feeling hopelessly depraved. I’m embarrassed at how desperate I must seem, how out of control, but it’s overtaken me. I need to finish.
“Why do you think I’d let you get off when all you’ve done is tease me like this?” he growls, reaching behind and grabbing the top of my legs where my ass meets my thighs.
“Please, I’ll do anything. I’m sorry,” I persist, feeling my shame mingled with my all-consuming need to be fucked hard. The combination is volatile, and again I feel a deep, terrible concern that this feeling will grip me forever.
“Bend over and let me use you,” he demands, looking down at me still.
“Yes, sir,” I whisper, turning over and bending over the desk.
“If you cum, you know you’ll be disciplined. You need to learn self-control,” he says, and I can hear him undoing his belt.
Even just thinking about how big his cock is has me throbbing all over again. I’ve thought about it every night as I fall asleep, imagining him fucking me in my own bed while I struggle to stay quiet.
It was supposed to remain a fantasy. I’ve already had enough. I don’t need to dig myself deeper into Akim’s wicked game.
He rubs the head of his cock on my slick lips, pressing it in slowly at first. His movements are slow at first, likely to make sure I feel every inch of him, every stroke as he punishes me for making him want me.
Who’s the one who needs to learn self-control?
I feel how tight I am around him, and I have to consciously try to relax in order to avoid tensing and making myself close again. I’ve only been edged like this once, and it was the week I learned how to edge myself. I was so horny that I almost came while I rode the train into town for work.
I’m trying in vain to grab the sides of the desk for stability as I try with every fiber in me not to let myself give in to my urges. If he says I need to learn self-control, then I’ll show him that I have it. I can’t let him have this much control over me.
He begins to pick up his speed, angling my hips in order to hit my g-spot harder. I’m so close that it’s agonizing to hold it back, and I can feel myself beginning to lose control.
“I’m getting close again,” I moan, wondering if he’ll stop entirely or push me over the edge.
