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Chapter 6: My Denial

"When do I get to cum?"

"I'm the only one who decides when that happens," she said, sipping at her drink.

The fire crackled behind us. It threw long, twisted shadows against the wall of the living room. Dim light from the lamps created warm pools of illumination. It was just enough for me to see Jennifer's long, stocking-covered leg disappear into the folds of her skirt. The shiny black of her stilettos twinkled in the light, the tip of one shoe bobbing in the air in front of me.

"When will that be?" I asked, looking up at her.

"I'm not sure," she answered, uncrossing and crossing her legs.

With her on the couch in front of me, the movement was slow enough to see a flash of pink lace. It was intentional and calculated, I was sure, one of the many tiny things she did to keep me permanently aroused and frustrated. I felt my clit surge in its confines and wondered if I had squirted more pre-cum just from seeing her panties.

"I — I know what you really want, Dalia. What you can barely admit to yourself."

I shifted on the floor in front of her. The long heels of my shoes were digging into my pantied rear, but I bared the discomfort because she asked me to. Because she told me to, and I obeyed.

"You never want me to take that cage off, do you?" she said simply.

Her words were like a knife, cutting through my anxieties and denials straight to my core. She split me open, the truth as clear to me as it was to her. I never could have admitted it — much less said it out loud — but as her words hung in the air, we both knew the truth.

"I want to cum," I objected weakly.

"That's not what I asked. Admit it — you want this control to be permanent."

"I —" I started.

"You want to be my pretty little plaything, desperate and horny," she cut me off, leaning forwards, her face coming into the light. "Begging me to touch you, to put you in something sweet and frilly."

Her full lips were painted a dark purple, her cheekbones high and angular. Somehow her face looked sharper than usual, her eyes brighter. Like a hawk above me, moving into position for its final, devastating dive.

"Jennifer, I… I…"

"You love the dresses," she continued, ignoring me. "You love the lingerie. You love being ravished and used."

But could I give up my orgasms for that?

"I'll never get to cum again?" I asked, not sure how I wanted her to answer.

"Of course you can. If you earn it. If I allow it."

"What do I have to do?"

"I don't want you to ever use your clitty to cum again," she answered. "That's the truth. I love knowing you're locked up and horny and you can't do a thing about it. That control. That power, Dalia? It makes me hotter than anything you could possibly do."

My stomach tied itself into a knot as my chest tightened. Fear and arousal split me open. Permanent chastity, a sick fantasy and desperate dream. Something that terrified me as much as I had longed for it. Now it was possible, and I had no say in the matter. It was simply up to Jennifer to enforce.

"If you can show me that you can cum without touching it, then we'll make it permanent."

"How — how could I even do that?"

"There's a special spot you sissies have. Inside of you, behind your little clitties."

"In my —"

I felt my rear tingle.

"Yes. We can use plugs or dildoes or vibrators to reach it. With a little practice, that's enough to make you cum."

"And if I can from that — you'd never unlock me again?"

I was shaking now.

"You'd be mine forever," she said simply, grandly, happily. "Permanently. Your little clit becomes what it was always supposed to be: another way for me to tease you. Another reminder of my control. Proof of what you've given to me, and what you are."

"What am I?" I asked, voice quavering.

I was open to her. More vulnerable than I'd been to anyone before. She had me. She knew me better than anyone ever could — better than I even knew myself. I had no choice. I was going to give myself to her however she wanted me. I had to.

"My sissy girl. My lover. My toy."

Each word burrowed into me, lighting me from the inside. They were a gift, a spoken truth of once-unspoken needs.

"I want that," I admitted, feeling relief rush in to replace fear.

"I know, Dalia," she said with a soft smile. "But I won't do it until you're ready. Until you ask me to, do you understand? It will be the ultimate act of submission to me."

Not an escape or a way out. We were on the road together now. There was no turning back. Only practice and promises. Dedication. Trust. Love.

"How do we start?" I asked.

She produced something from the drawer next to her. It was long and thin with a gentle taper. The tip was bulbous. Curving, twisted veins like bolts of lightning caught the firelight as she brought it down to my level. Electricity shot through me as I realized what it was.

"With this."