Clench

“Let me see your little nubbin, sweetie.”  He said it so nonchalantly, but I knew those words too well for his tone to fool me.  A shiver swept up my spine.  I slid out of my shorts and did as instructed - on my back at the edge of the couch, legs open, panty-clad crotch facing the sky.

This was the second week that he was using me as his masturbation tool.  True, we had been in a soft dom/sub relationship for months beforehand, but then something had shifted.  I wanted more, I wanted to go deeper.  I wanted to be used, and so he was using me.

I had asked for this - I reminded myself of that frequently.  And, as it turns out, I enjoyed it.  There was no denying the wet spot on my panties that he fondled before sliding the fabric up to my knees.

He swept his thumb over my clit and I couldn’t suppress the moan that escaped my lips.  A few more swipes and my head was spinning with arousal.  He nearly never pleasured me anymore - a masturbation sleeve doesn’t get pleasure.  Now a few seconds rubbing my clit was nearly overstimulation.

His fingers left my clit to plunge into my cunt in the practiced, clinical manner of a gynecologist.  “Have you been practicing?” he prompted.

I nodded eagerly.  “Yes, Sir, of course.”

“Clench.”

I squeezed as hard as I could, tensing my kegel muscles around his intruding fingers.  He moved them in and out, probing, testing my strength, but I held firm.  “Not bad,” he murmured, and I swelled with pride.  In the beginning, I had barely been able to squeeze him at all.

But then his thumb swept over my clit again and my pussy pulsed in need.  I tried in vain to hold the muscles taut, but my slit refused to do anything but swell in response to his soft touch on my nub.  Even I could feel myself go slack around his fingers.

He sighed and shook his head.  “That little nubbin is still distracting you, isn’t it?  We’ll have to use the training aid again.”  I whimpered but nodded in sad agreement.

As it turned out, he preferred a masturbation sleeve that was much tighter than me.  As soon as I had asked him to use me, to really use me, he had told me I had work to do.  It was my job to tighten my pussy and hold his cock while he masturbated into me, and so I had been working diligently to build up muscle strength.  Daily kegels, practicing clenching around dildos and my fingers.

And, when all else failed, Sir used his foolproof training tool to make sure he could use me exactly as he wanted.

“Are you ready?” he asked.  My stomach fell when I saw the tool in his hand - he must have had it in his pocket, ready to go.  He must have expected I would fail.

“Yes, Sir,” I said before closing my eyes.  I felt the intrusive pokes of his fingertips and then the lancing pain as he released the clamp directly on my clit.  It was like lightning shooting up through my crotch and into my belly.  A pained groan snuck from my lips and I could feel my legs shaking from the exertion of holding them open.  I froze in place because every jostling movement sent a fresh wave of agony up from my slit.

I could also feel my cunt, now tight as a vice, constricting around his fingers still inside me.

“That’s a good girl, that’s what I wanted, that’s all you have to do.”  His growl of arousal made my pussy jump again.  Even in pain, the thought of him using me for his pleasure made me drip.  

I heard his pants ruffle to the floor, and the next instant his cock replaced his fingers.  The initial penetration made me gasp - the pleasurable stretch, the rub of his cockhead against my sensitive inner flesh.  But then he pushed in until his pelvis bumped the clamp and made me yelp from another shock of pain.

“Hands stay on your thighs,” he reminded me in a hard voice as he started thrusting, then a deep moan.  “Good girl.  Keep clenching.”

I focused hard on the sweeping strokes of his cock and tried to ignore the distracting rhythmic thumping against my G-spot.  Every fiber of my effort flowed into keeping my cunt muscles tight around him.  As his groans intensified, I thought I might make it, but I should have known better - he always lasted longer than me.

“Don’t tire out on me now,” he murmured.  My clit had long-since gone numb and my muscle strength was failing.  “Do you need some help?”

“Yes please sir,” I said softly.

“Ask me to help you.”

“Please help me be a better masturbation sleeve for you, sir.”

“Ask better than that or I may decide I’m better off only using your ass instead.”

I groaned at the threat and, even in its exhaustion, my pussy pulsed weakly.  He was always ready with the next stage of degradation.  He knew that if he teased me about it long enough, I would soon beg him to make me anal only - but not today.  “Please, sir, help me make my pussy tighter so you can use it for your pleasure.  I’m too weak to do it myself - please help me turn myself into a better fuckdoll for you.”

“Look at me.  Is that what you really want?”  I opened my eyes and watched him towering over me and steadily thrumming in and out of my cunt.

“Yes, sir, please.”  Almost before the words were out of my mouth, he was tugging on the clamp.  I shrieked and jerked under him, but he held me down with his other hand on my chest.  He leaned in hard to hold my legs over his shoulders.  On cue, my pussy clenched hard around his cock.

“That’s what I need, baby, just a little more.”  He stroked harder now, bottoming out inside me, and my pussy stretched out around his shaft.  It was too much - too loose for him.  Another tug, another whimper, another clench.

He kept going for longer than I cared to track, torturing my clit each time I loosened to make my cunt grab his dick.  It became a singular point of throbbing pain under his ministrations.  Eventually the tugging stopped working, so he switched to twisting.  When the twisting stopped working, he butterflied the clamp, opening and closing it rapidly without actually releasing it, until I was shaking under him.

“Please cum, please cum, please cum,” I found myself mumbling in rhythm with his strokes.

When he noticed, he just chuckled.  “If you want me to cum, you have to milk me.”  Then he gave the clamp a particularly hard jerk to cement his point.

Finally I felt him swelling inside me and I clenched as hard as I could, but in the end, it didn’t matter.  He yanked the clamp off of my clit at the moment of his climax to guarantee a firm clench to optimize his orgasm.  I yowled in pain as my clit felt like it was being ripped off while he collapsed over me in a heap of pleasure.  His seed pooled hotly in my unsatisfied cunt.

When he pulled his deflating cock out of me, my clit was still burning, but I didn’t dare touch it.  I pulled my clothes back on while he cleaned himself off.  He gave me a quick kiss and a squeeze on the ass, a perfunctory, “Good job, babe, you’ll get it next time,” and then he was off to golf with his buddies with a clear head.

He always liked to masturbate before he left the house.