untitled femdom ficlet, nc17
D/s, chastity devices, orgasm denial, all good things. for my lyo.
***
It's been three days-three days since they picked up the package at Jon's apartment during their six-hour break in Chicago, three days since she let Jon beg her for it, three days since they've had any real privacy-and Spencer is impatient, but she doesn't let it show, calmly walking the hotel corridor with their room key burning a hole in her back pocket.
Jon walks at her side, half a pace behind her, and he keeps his steps slow and measured to hers, but out of the corner of her eye she can see the tense set of his shoulders, the tiny signs that he's just as impatient as she is.
She unlocks the door with a precise, practiced motion, slinging down her bag in the closet nook just inside the room and waiting for Jon to do the same. The door is barely closed before she crowds him against the wall, lips skimming his temple and then murmuring, "On your knees," in his ear.
He goes willingly, drops to the floor with his thighs splayed wide, and it gives Spencer a thrill to know why he's not kneeling with his knees neatly together, to know about the snug-fitting cock cage she put on him three days ago. She reaches out and puts her hand in Jon's hair, petting him gently; he makes a happy sound and leans into her touch, looking up at her with dark and trusting eyes, and that gives her a thrill, too.
"How do you feel?" she asks him. She's asked him the same question a dozen times in the past three days, with a reassuring touch to his arm or his thigh, and every time his answer has been a secretive little smile, maybe a, "Fine," if there are other people within earshot.
This time, though, he just turns his head and presses a kiss to the center of her palm, so she can feel that smile.
She tugs on his hair. "I asked you a question," she says mildly.
Jon's eyes flutter shut. "Fine, I'm fine," he says, mouth dropping open on a gasp when she pulls just a little too hard.
Spencer smiles. "You're better than fine," she says. "You've been so good these past few days, Jon, I think you deserve a reward. Tell me what you want." She figures that he's going to ask for her to take the cage off, ask to be allowed to come, but instead he makes a needy noise and presses forward to kiss the front of her jeans, licking a long line up her fly.
"Let me?" he asks softly.
Her eyes soften. "Ask me for it," she says. "If you want it so much, I think you can say it."
He shudders like the very thought of tasting her is too much for him to bear. "Let me go down on you, Spencer, please," he begs.
Spencer pets his hair again. "Just like this?"
"Just like this," he agrees, nuzzling between her legs some more, and then she steps back so she can toe off her shoes and unbutton her jeans, sliding them down her thighs until she can step out of them, her feet between Jon's spread knees.
He stays still for a long moment, just breathing against the thin, silky cotton of her underwear without putting his mouth on her. Spencer shivers. "Jon-"
"Please," he says again, waiting for permission, and God, she's so proud of him.
"Yes," she says, and then gasps as he presses his tongue to her clit through the cotton, his beard rasping against her thighs as she shifts her stance so her legs are a little farther apart. She was pushing Jon against the wall a little bit before, so it's easy to lean forward a little and brace herself, one hand sliding on the textured wallpaper, the other still tangled in Jon's hair.
Spencer lets him lick at her through her panties for a minute, hips shifting restlessly, but she can only take so much teasing.
"Take them off, Jon," she directs, and there's barely half a second when his tongue isn't on her as he drags her underwear down off her hips.
He seems to take that as permission to touch her, which she might have to punish him for later, except that it feels so good to have his hands bracketing her hips as he works her over with his mouth, dipping his tongue into her cunt and then sliding it up to swirl around her clit. His rhythm is perfect, his tongue just rough enough as it presses against her, and she leans more and more of her weight against the wall so she can grind against his face.
When she's breathing hard and heavy, she says, "Fingers," and without missing a beat he slides two fingers inside her, the tip of a third resting gently against her ass, and he switches to hard, broad strokes over her clit as he fucks her shallowly with his fingers. He's so good at this, so thoroughly familiar with what she likes; it takes bare minutes for her to come with a moan, knees shaking like they might buckle on her, and she lets go of his hair to put her other hand against the wall, just to hold herself up.
After she catches her breath a little, she takes the few unsteady steps to the bed and sits down, the comforter feeling slick and weird against her bare ass. Jon follows her, shuffling forward on his knees and then laying his head in her lap, breathing heavily himself. Obligingly, she puts her hand in his hair again, and his pleased sound this time has the slightest hint of a hitch at the end of it.
Spencer thinks of how uncomfortable he must be, how turned on she knows he is from going down on her, but with the cage restricting him, preventing him from getting hard, and she lets her fingers linger on the nape of his neck.
"So good for me, Jon," she says again.
He huffs out a sigh against her bare thigh. "Trying," he says, his tone almost even, but not quite.
She slips two fingers under the neck of his t-shirt, feeling the heat of his skin. "Can you tell me how it feels?" She's been wondering, but she hasn't had time to ask, not when the only time they've had together in the past three days has been his fingers between her legs in her bunk at night and one hurried interlude in a venue green room that he spent with his head up her skirt.
He takes a shaky breath. "Hard to keep myself under control."
Spencer blinks. "I thought that was the whole point, that you wouldn't have to, because you wouldn't have a choice." Or at least that's what he said before they decided to buy the cage in the first place, what Spencer thought she was agreeing to.
"Not that," he says, and his face flushes a little. "Hard to stop myself from begging you to take it off."
She stops carding her fingers through his hair for a moment to tilt his head back, so his eyes are on hers. "If it's bothering you that much," she says sternly, "you're supposed to tell me. I don't want you wearing it if it hurts."
He shakes his head. "It doesn't hurt, it's just-"
"Just what, Jon?"
Jon looks up at her, and Spencer could swear his eyes go a little bit darker as she watches. "It's like being on the edge every time I'm near you."
She feels her own eyes go half-lidded at that thought, of Jon walking around for three days constantly on the verge of begging her to let him come, and feels a sharp stab of desire. "Is it too much?" she asks.
"Almost," Jon says. "Not quite." He shrugs a little, giving her a half-smile. "Wanted to be good for you."
"Oh, baby," she says, and folds forward to capture his mouth in a kiss, tasting herself on his lips. "Come on, up here."
He scrambles up onto the bed next to her, still fully dressed, and turns in to kiss her again, one hand warm on her bare thigh. "Could make you come again," he mumbles into her mouth. "Or..."
Spencer sits back on her hands, knocking her foot against his and looking at him steadily. "If I told you that I wanted you to keep it on, you would, wouldn't you?"
"Yes," he says without hesitation, even though she can see him shifting uncomfortably on the bed with his thighs spread.
Making a decision, Spencer stands up. "Shirt off, and on your back," she says, and then she goes to fumble in her bag for the key to the tiny aluminum lock for the cage.
She picks up her panties from where they're lying on the floor and puts them back on, and when she turns back to the bed Jon is lying down exactly like she asked, the outline of the cage just visible through his jeans, but only because Spencer knows exactly what she's looking at.
Spencer kneels up on the bed, dangling the key from her fingers, smiling at the way Jon's eyes widen with relief. "Hold still," she says, and then undoes the button fly of his jeans and drags them down his legs along with his boxers, leaving him naked except for the cage. "Now spread your legs."
Jon hastens to obey, letting his legs fall open, drawing even more attention to the clear acrylic caging his cock and balls. He's beautiful like this, submissive down to the tilt of his head, all of him on display for her, all of him hers; she strokes up the inside of his thigh and listens to his breathing go ragged, watches the muscles in his legs go taut with the effort of not moving, still trying to be good for her.
He whimpers a little as she shifts the cage to reach the lock, a whimper that turns into a moan when she takes the cage off entirely and he immediately starts to get hard, his chest flushing along with his cock.
"I've barely even touched you," Spencer says, amazed.
Jon sucks in a breath through his teeth and clenches his hands into fists at his sides. "Didn't have to," he says, and then, "Fuck, Spencer, please can I-"
"No," she says shortly, and then reaches out to rub her knuckles behind his balls, watching him get even harder without a hand on him.
When Jon is fully erect she draws two fingers gently up the underside of his cock, imagining that she can feel the blood moving under his skin. The faint red marks from where the cage latched on-they were careful to order the right size, so he could wear it for days without discomfort-disappeared as he got hard, lost in the sex-flush of his skin, and now he's just laid out hard and wanting in front of her, the cage off to the side, discarded.
"Stay still," she reminds him, and then she carefully swings one of her legs across his thighs so she's straddling him, tantalizingly close to his cock, probably close enough for him to feel the heat from her cunt.
"Staying," he says faintly, and then he cries out when she wraps her hand around him and gives him one slow stroke from base to tip. Spencer has never seen him so responsive, never seen him so needy, even when they haven't had sex in days, even when he was really into a scene. It's intoxicating.
She leans forward, bracing herself against the mattress with one hand above Jon's shoulder, the other still curled loosely around his cock. "Kiss me," she says, and he meets her halfway when she leans in, propping himself up on his elbows and craning his neck to reach her mouth.
Her hair falls into her eyes, but she doesn't have a free hand to push it back, not with one hand busy on Jon's cock and the other holding up her weight while Jon kisses her with everything he's got, sucking desperately on her tongue as his hips start to roll up into the grip of her hand.
Instantly she takes her hand away, raking her nails down the inside of his thigh. "I told you to stay still," she says.
Eyes squeezed shut, Jon drops his head back and gasps for air as he tries to still his body. "Sorry, sorry," he says, clearly fighting down his orgasm, fighting for control. "Thank you, Spencer."
She arches an eyebrow. "For what?"
"For stopping," he says, panting a little and then stilling with one last, deep breath.
"I don't want you to come yet," she says. "And I don't want to punish you, either."
"Yes, ma'am," he says, and she smiles at the simple honorific, so different coming from Jon than it ever is from anyone else.
"I like it when you call me that," she confesses.
He smiles back at her. "I know," he says, leaning up for another kiss and then squeezing his eyes shut and groaning when she wraps her hand around his cock again.
She keeps her strokes slow and light now, watching Jon's face, marveling at how intensely even the most teasing of touches seems to affect him. She wouldn't have thought that three days would make such a difference-she doesn't think it would for her-but going that time without so much as a hint of an erection seems to have turned all of Jon's nerves on high alert. No wonder he almost came thirty seconds after she started touching him.
"Jon," she says.
He opens his eyes to gaze up into hers, but makes no other reply.
She swirls her thumb over the head of his cock on the next upstroke. "I want you to come for me."
Jon shivers. "Yes," he says, eyes fluttering shut again as she firms up her grip.
"But you know the rules," she continues.
"Yes, ma'am," Jon says, and Spencer doesn't have to wait long; a minute later he opens his eyes again, showing dilated pupils and almost desperate pleasure. "Can I, please can I come?"
"Come, Jon," Spencer commands, sitting up and stroking him through it as his hips jerk.
"Fuck, fuck," he says, striping her hand and his own belly with come, chest heaving with the intensity of his orgasm. He looks pleadingly up at Spencer, says, "Please," and Spencer leans in to kiss him again, biting at his lower lip.
Spencer breaks the kiss and sits up again as soon as his breathing slows, offering him her hand. "Clean me up," she says, and then feels her cunt throb when Jon immediately props himself up on his elbows again so he can lick his come off of her fingers.
He licks his lips when he's finished. "Thank you, Spencer," he gravels out.
Flushing with pride, Spencer says, "You deserved it."
"Can I-" he says, motioning at the mess on his stomach, and Spencer obligingly clambers out of his lap so he can weave his way to the bathroom, recovering his boxers on the way. Spencer hears water running, and takes the opportunity to pick up the cage and lock and set them on the nightstand, turn down the covers, and climb into bed. Jon joins her half a minute later, turning out the light and then sliding under the sheets and snuggling up to her side.
"Was that what you wanted, baby?" she asks, and feels him nod against her shoulder. "I can put it back on you, if you liked it so much."
"Right now?" Jon asks sleepily. He always wants to pass out right after he comes; it would annoy Spencer if she didn't find it so adorable.
"No, in the morning," she yawns. She hadn't realized she was so tired, herself.
His lips skim her collarbone. "If it's what you want," he says.
Spencer frowns in the darkness. "I'm asking you what you want."
Jon goes very quiet for a moment. "I liked it because it made me feel like I belonged to you," he finally says.
She makes a dismissive sound. "You shouldn't need the cage for that."
"Well, maybe I just liked it, too," he admits.
Spencer laughs and nuzzles at his hair until he turns his face up to hers for a kiss. "In the morning, then," she says.
"Morning," Jon repeats, sounding half-asleep. "Thank you, ma'am."
"I love you, Jon," she says.
"Love you, too," he replies, and they fall asleep tangled together in crisp hotel sheets.
***
***
It's been three days-three days since they picked up the package at Jon's apartment during their six-hour break in Chicago, three days since she let Jon beg her for it, three days since they've had any real privacy-and Spencer is impatient, but she doesn't let it show, calmly walking the hotel corridor with their room key burning a hole in her back pocket.
Jon walks at her side, half a pace behind her, and he keeps his steps slow and measured to hers, but out of the corner of her eye she can see the tense set of his shoulders, the tiny signs that he's just as impatient as she is.
She unlocks the door with a precise, practiced motion, slinging down her bag in the closet nook just inside the room and waiting for Jon to do the same. The door is barely closed before she crowds him against the wall, lips skimming his temple and then murmuring, "On your knees," in his ear.
He goes willingly, drops to the floor with his thighs splayed wide, and it gives Spencer a thrill to know why he's not kneeling with his knees neatly together, to know about the snug-fitting cock cage she put on him three days ago. She reaches out and puts her hand in Jon's hair, petting him gently; he makes a happy sound and leans into her touch, looking up at her with dark and trusting eyes, and that gives her a thrill, too.
"How do you feel?" she asks him. She's asked him the same question a dozen times in the past three days, with a reassuring touch to his arm or his thigh, and every time his answer has been a secretive little smile, maybe a, "Fine," if there are other people within earshot.
This time, though, he just turns his head and presses a kiss to the center of her palm, so she can feel that smile.
She tugs on his hair. "I asked you a question," she says mildly.
Jon's eyes flutter shut. "Fine, I'm fine," he says, mouth dropping open on a gasp when she pulls just a little too hard.
Spencer smiles. "You're better than fine," she says. "You've been so good these past few days, Jon, I think you deserve a reward. Tell me what you want." She figures that he's going to ask for her to take the cage off, ask to be allowed to come, but instead he makes a needy noise and presses forward to kiss the front of her jeans, licking a long line up her fly.
"Let me?" he asks softly.
Her eyes soften. "Ask me for it," she says. "If you want it so much, I think you can say it."
He shudders like the very thought of tasting her is too much for him to bear. "Let me go down on you, Spencer, please," he begs.
Spencer pets his hair again. "Just like this?"
"Just like this," he agrees, nuzzling between her legs some more, and then she steps back so she can toe off her shoes and unbutton her jeans, sliding them down her thighs until she can step out of them, her feet between Jon's spread knees.
He stays still for a long moment, just breathing against the thin, silky cotton of her underwear without putting his mouth on her. Spencer shivers. "Jon-"
"Please," he says again, waiting for permission, and God, she's so proud of him.
"Yes," she says, and then gasps as he presses his tongue to her clit through the cotton, his beard rasping against her thighs as she shifts her stance so her legs are a little farther apart. She was pushing Jon against the wall a little bit before, so it's easy to lean forward a little and brace herself, one hand sliding on the textured wallpaper, the other still tangled in Jon's hair.
Spencer lets him lick at her through her panties for a minute, hips shifting restlessly, but she can only take so much teasing.
"Take them off, Jon," she directs, and there's barely half a second when his tongue isn't on her as he drags her underwear down off her hips.
He seems to take that as permission to touch her, which she might have to punish him for later, except that it feels so good to have his hands bracketing her hips as he works her over with his mouth, dipping his tongue into her cunt and then sliding it up to swirl around her clit. His rhythm is perfect, his tongue just rough enough as it presses against her, and she leans more and more of her weight against the wall so she can grind against his face.
When she's breathing hard and heavy, she says, "Fingers," and without missing a beat he slides two fingers inside her, the tip of a third resting gently against her ass, and he switches to hard, broad strokes over her clit as he fucks her shallowly with his fingers. He's so good at this, so thoroughly familiar with what she likes; it takes bare minutes for her to come with a moan, knees shaking like they might buckle on her, and she lets go of his hair to put her other hand against the wall, just to hold herself up.
After she catches her breath a little, she takes the few unsteady steps to the bed and sits down, the comforter feeling slick and weird against her bare ass. Jon follows her, shuffling forward on his knees and then laying his head in her lap, breathing heavily himself. Obligingly, she puts her hand in his hair again, and his pleased sound this time has the slightest hint of a hitch at the end of it.
Spencer thinks of how uncomfortable he must be, how turned on she knows he is from going down on her, but with the cage restricting him, preventing him from getting hard, and she lets her fingers linger on the nape of his neck.
"So good for me, Jon," she says again.
He huffs out a sigh against her bare thigh. "Trying," he says, his tone almost even, but not quite.
She slips two fingers under the neck of his t-shirt, feeling the heat of his skin. "Can you tell me how it feels?" She's been wondering, but she hasn't had time to ask, not when the only time they've had together in the past three days has been his fingers between her legs in her bunk at night and one hurried interlude in a venue green room that he spent with his head up her skirt.
He takes a shaky breath. "Hard to keep myself under control."
Spencer blinks. "I thought that was the whole point, that you wouldn't have to, because you wouldn't have a choice." Or at least that's what he said before they decided to buy the cage in the first place, what Spencer thought she was agreeing to.
"Not that," he says, and his face flushes a little. "Hard to stop myself from begging you to take it off."
She stops carding her fingers through his hair for a moment to tilt his head back, so his eyes are on hers. "If it's bothering you that much," she says sternly, "you're supposed to tell me. I don't want you wearing it if it hurts."
He shakes his head. "It doesn't hurt, it's just-"
"Just what, Jon?"
Jon looks up at her, and Spencer could swear his eyes go a little bit darker as she watches. "It's like being on the edge every time I'm near you."
She feels her own eyes go half-lidded at that thought, of Jon walking around for three days constantly on the verge of begging her to let him come, and feels a sharp stab of desire. "Is it too much?" she asks.
"Almost," Jon says. "Not quite." He shrugs a little, giving her a half-smile. "Wanted to be good for you."
"Oh, baby," she says, and folds forward to capture his mouth in a kiss, tasting herself on his lips. "Come on, up here."
He scrambles up onto the bed next to her, still fully dressed, and turns in to kiss her again, one hand warm on her bare thigh. "Could make you come again," he mumbles into her mouth. "Or..."
Spencer sits back on her hands, knocking her foot against his and looking at him steadily. "If I told you that I wanted you to keep it on, you would, wouldn't you?"
"Yes," he says without hesitation, even though she can see him shifting uncomfortably on the bed with his thighs spread.
Making a decision, Spencer stands up. "Shirt off, and on your back," she says, and then she goes to fumble in her bag for the key to the tiny aluminum lock for the cage.
She picks up her panties from where they're lying on the floor and puts them back on, and when she turns back to the bed Jon is lying down exactly like she asked, the outline of the cage just visible through his jeans, but only because Spencer knows exactly what she's looking at.
Spencer kneels up on the bed, dangling the key from her fingers, smiling at the way Jon's eyes widen with relief. "Hold still," she says, and then undoes the button fly of his jeans and drags them down his legs along with his boxers, leaving him naked except for the cage. "Now spread your legs."
Jon hastens to obey, letting his legs fall open, drawing even more attention to the clear acrylic caging his cock and balls. He's beautiful like this, submissive down to the tilt of his head, all of him on display for her, all of him hers; she strokes up the inside of his thigh and listens to his breathing go ragged, watches the muscles in his legs go taut with the effort of not moving, still trying to be good for her.
He whimpers a little as she shifts the cage to reach the lock, a whimper that turns into a moan when she takes the cage off entirely and he immediately starts to get hard, his chest flushing along with his cock.
"I've barely even touched you," Spencer says, amazed.
Jon sucks in a breath through his teeth and clenches his hands into fists at his sides. "Didn't have to," he says, and then, "Fuck, Spencer, please can I-"
"No," she says shortly, and then reaches out to rub her knuckles behind his balls, watching him get even harder without a hand on him.
When Jon is fully erect she draws two fingers gently up the underside of his cock, imagining that she can feel the blood moving under his skin. The faint red marks from where the cage latched on-they were careful to order the right size, so he could wear it for days without discomfort-disappeared as he got hard, lost in the sex-flush of his skin, and now he's just laid out hard and wanting in front of her, the cage off to the side, discarded.
"Stay still," she reminds him, and then she carefully swings one of her legs across his thighs so she's straddling him, tantalizingly close to his cock, probably close enough for him to feel the heat from her cunt.
"Staying," he says faintly, and then he cries out when she wraps her hand around him and gives him one slow stroke from base to tip. Spencer has never seen him so responsive, never seen him so needy, even when they haven't had sex in days, even when he was really into a scene. It's intoxicating.
She leans forward, bracing herself against the mattress with one hand above Jon's shoulder, the other still curled loosely around his cock. "Kiss me," she says, and he meets her halfway when she leans in, propping himself up on his elbows and craning his neck to reach her mouth.
Her hair falls into her eyes, but she doesn't have a free hand to push it back, not with one hand busy on Jon's cock and the other holding up her weight while Jon kisses her with everything he's got, sucking desperately on her tongue as his hips start to roll up into the grip of her hand.
Instantly she takes her hand away, raking her nails down the inside of his thigh. "I told you to stay still," she says.
Eyes squeezed shut, Jon drops his head back and gasps for air as he tries to still his body. "Sorry, sorry," he says, clearly fighting down his orgasm, fighting for control. "Thank you, Spencer."
She arches an eyebrow. "For what?"
"For stopping," he says, panting a little and then stilling with one last, deep breath.
"I don't want you to come yet," she says. "And I don't want to punish you, either."
"Yes, ma'am," he says, and she smiles at the simple honorific, so different coming from Jon than it ever is from anyone else.
"I like it when you call me that," she confesses.
He smiles back at her. "I know," he says, leaning up for another kiss and then squeezing his eyes shut and groaning when she wraps her hand around his cock again.
She keeps her strokes slow and light now, watching Jon's face, marveling at how intensely even the most teasing of touches seems to affect him. She wouldn't have thought that three days would make such a difference-she doesn't think it would for her-but going that time without so much as a hint of an erection seems to have turned all of Jon's nerves on high alert. No wonder he almost came thirty seconds after she started touching him.
"Jon," she says.
He opens his eyes to gaze up into hers, but makes no other reply.
She swirls her thumb over the head of his cock on the next upstroke. "I want you to come for me."
Jon shivers. "Yes," he says, eyes fluttering shut again as she firms up her grip.
"But you know the rules," she continues.
"Yes, ma'am," Jon says, and Spencer doesn't have to wait long; a minute later he opens his eyes again, showing dilated pupils and almost desperate pleasure. "Can I, please can I come?"
"Come, Jon," Spencer commands, sitting up and stroking him through it as his hips jerk.
"Fuck, fuck," he says, striping her hand and his own belly with come, chest heaving with the intensity of his orgasm. He looks pleadingly up at Spencer, says, "Please," and Spencer leans in to kiss him again, biting at his lower lip.
Spencer breaks the kiss and sits up again as soon as his breathing slows, offering him her hand. "Clean me up," she says, and then feels her cunt throb when Jon immediately props himself up on his elbows again so he can lick his come off of her fingers.
He licks his lips when he's finished. "Thank you, Spencer," he gravels out.
Flushing with pride, Spencer says, "You deserved it."
"Can I-" he says, motioning at the mess on his stomach, and Spencer obligingly clambers out of his lap so he can weave his way to the bathroom, recovering his boxers on the way. Spencer hears water running, and takes the opportunity to pick up the cage and lock and set them on the nightstand, turn down the covers, and climb into bed. Jon joins her half a minute later, turning out the light and then sliding under the sheets and snuggling up to her side.
"Was that what you wanted, baby?" she asks, and feels him nod against her shoulder. "I can put it back on you, if you liked it so much."
"Right now?" Jon asks sleepily. He always wants to pass out right after he comes; it would annoy Spencer if she didn't find it so adorable.
"No, in the morning," she yawns. She hadn't realized she was so tired, herself.
His lips skim her collarbone. "If it's what you want," he says.
Spencer frowns in the darkness. "I'm asking you what you want."
Jon goes very quiet for a moment. "I liked it because it made me feel like I belonged to you," he finally says.
She makes a dismissive sound. "You shouldn't need the cage for that."
"Well, maybe I just liked it, too," he admits.
Spencer laughs and nuzzles at his hair until he turns his face up to hers for a kiss. "In the morning, then," she says.
"Morning," Jon repeats, sounding half-asleep. "Thank you, ma'am."
"I love you, Jon," she says.
"Love you, too," he replies, and they fall asleep tangled together in crisp hotel sheets.
***