The Game

My boy has had just 2 orgasms this year. One after 35 days, the next after 18, the next is yet to happen.

He was close to getting it the other day.. I told him he could have one, or he could chose to play a game. He asked, "what if I chose to have it now?" I said, "you wont get to play my game".

And so, partly because he really didn't want to spoil his denial (I think) and partly to please me, he said he'd play my game, and asked what it was. When his cock was safely locked away again I told him a little bit about the game. I told him, he would have to pay for his next orgasm, but it wasn't just a case of paying. I would make it into a challenge. If he failed, he'd have to wait until I next chose to offer him a chance to try and pay me.

This is the story, in his words...

The Game - A True Story
By My boy

Day forty nine.

Exactly seven weeks of chastity.  

Seven weeks of lockdown.  

The only time my cock came out it's steel prison was for Mistress to tease play with it. It was HER toy she said.  Hers and hers alone. 

Merciless denial, constant torment.

Day forty nine and she was offering me a choice.

Unlocked, teased, deep inside her but unable even to pleasure her properly in my extremely sensitive and desperate state.  I wanted so much to thrust deep inside her.  To give her the fucking that I knew she wanted.  But just couldn't. She had deliberately made me unable, deliberately made my cock useless.

It was in this position, buried inside her yet hardly able to move, that she gave me my choice.

'You may choose to cum today.  I will let you.  Or you can play my game.'

Indecision filled my mind.  I WANTED to cum.  I wanted nothing more. I had an urgent and overwhelming need for it.  Yet... yet I also needed the submission that suffering for her brought.  I needed her pleasure, I needed the frustration.

'Don't you want to play my game?' she asked.

She had refused to even tell me what it involved until after I made the decision.

Looking into her eyes, sinking into her, I had no choice.

'Yes please Mistress.'

Her whispered, 'Good boy' almost made me explode.

The game was simple.

I would have to pay for my next orgasm.  She would give me a small window of opportunity to get the money to her and if I managed, then I would be given my orgasm.  I would get one chance per week until I eventually won.

My mind reeled, thinking about it.  Surely it was simple?  All I had to do was quickly drive to her home, hand her the money.  Surely that would be easy? But when would she pick?  Would she make it difficult, knowing my work pattern and pick a time of peak traffic flow with a short time window?  Would she make the cost beyond what I could afford?

I wondered just when I would get my next orgasm, wondered if I had made the right choice after seven weeks of denial.

My helplessness hitting me like a brick wall, desperation filling me as she rode me, I fell into utter hopelessness.  Sobbing for the orgasm I couldn't have.  That I had voluntarily sacrificed.  Sobbing at my situation, yet knowing I needed it so badly.

She quietly held me as I sobbed.

Friday found me sat at my desk at work, concentrating hard and feeling stressed.  A difficult piece of work had to be finished by the end of the day and I was unsure even where to find all the information.  Then the knock knock of Mistress's text hit my phone.  Every time I hear that knocking it feels like I am being summoned.

'You need to post me a twenty pound note today.....'

The game was on.

But she didn't want just any twenty pound note.  It had to have one of her initials and two numbers from the year of her birth in the serial number.

Oh my.

I sat at my desk, flushed, staring at the phone.

My cock was a rod of steel within the cage.

My tummy was churning.

What could I do?

How could I get the right twenty?

Experimentally I asked a couple of colleagues if they had a twenty.

They just laughed and then probed why I wanted one.

That wasn't going to work.

Shit.

Lunchtime found me dashing out the building to the bank.  Maximum withdrawal - £400.  My fingers trembling as the cash machine worked, please please please have the right note.

And there it was.  The golden nugget with the right numbers and letters.  And then another. And another!  It wasn't as hard as I had worried, in fact it now seemed easy.  I was going to get my orgasm!

Smiling happily, I sent a photo to her.

Then.... oh.  I couldn't fully remember her address.  I knew the postcode and street name, but the number of her house eluded me. 

Simple.  A text to his Mistress would sort that out.

She replied, 'That's part of the game.'

Time was ticking and I had a meeting at work.  It was almost 1pm.  Quickly back to the office, I brought up google maps onto her house.  

The street number didn't show.

Street view, that would do it...

Which wasn't quite good enough to show the number of her house!

Panicking slightly now I realised I was late for my meeting.

The meeting finished after 3pm.  

Time was getting short.

Mistress seemed delighted by the game and my struggles.  It didn't help that my cock was responding to her.

Tick. Tick.

How to find her address?

Tick.

Tick.

Her emails - checked.

Scratching my head, tummy fluttering.  

I couldn't miss this orgasm!

Then I had it.  A simple check I should have done right away brought her full address into the palm of my hand.

Elation filled me.

I dashed to the post office to send it recorded delivery.  This money could NOT be lost in the post.  It was worth far more than twenty pounds.  It was worth seven weeks of frustration and denial.

Arriving at the post office, I couldn't believe it.

A sign on the door announced it was closed due to industrial action.

Panic hit me again.

I could just see her glee, the smile on her face at my predicament.  I could imagine her enjoyment if I failed.  But what would the next week bring if I did?  It might be even harder!

Rushing through town, desperate now I went in search of another post office.

Twenty minutes of searching and there it was.  Open.

I breathed a sigh of relief and joined the queue.

Money posted, I slowly walked back to work.

I had just paid for an orgasm.

My only hope to cum was to pay for it.

My cock throbbed in it's cage.

My face flushed hot and red.

Butterflies filled my tummy.

I had PAID for an orgasm.

Then her text arrived informing me I would still have to wait an extra week for it.  An earlier misdemeanour which she had told me about had earnt me a punishment of additional denial. It was not being overlooked.

Another week.... my minimum term would be nine weeks. Sixty three days.

I walked back to work trying to hide the bulge created by my cock throbbing in the cage.

I felt the hopelessness of the continued wait filling me.  The need engulfing me.

I had paid for an orgasm and now had to wait.

I loved Her.

I loved Her game.