Blind Submission: Cal's Jil-Off Manual

The rain hammered against the windows of the cabin, a relentless rhythm matching the frantic beat of my heart. Outside, the dense Oregon forest pressed close, smelling of damp earth and pine needles, but here, inside, the air was thick with anticipation and the scent of sweat. Jill, sprawled across the king-sized bed, was a vision of unrestrained desire, her naked form glistening under the dim light cast by a single oil lamp. Her legs were splayed wide, inviting, almost begging for attention. The vibrator lay on the pillow beside her, sleek and cold, a silent promise of pleasure to come. Beside it, a collection of dildos – a heavy glass one, a silver bullet, and a slender wand – rested, each one a potential instrument of pleasure.

My husband, Cal, stood over me, a dark shadow in the corner of the room, observing with a critical eye. He’d insisted on this scenario – the JOI, as he’d dubbed it, a meticulously planned act of dominance and submission. It wasn’t just about physical release; it was about control, about pushing her to the very edge of her senses, forcing her to crave my touch.

“You think I’m going to climb on top of you and give it to you?” I murmured, my voice low and deliberately teasing. I took a slow, deliberate step forward, savoring the look of pleading in her eyes. “Nah, baby. Not tonight.”

A whimper escaped her lips, a desperate plea for release. “I want it,” she begged, her voice raw with need. “I want your cock. I need it.”

I stopped just beside the bed, my gaze lingering on her trembling body. “You’ll get it,” I said, my voice laced with a hint of menace. “But you’re going to work for it.”

I reached into the drawer, retrieving the implements of our twisted pleasure. The cool plastic of the glass dildo sent a shiver down my spine, a reminder of the pleasure it promised, and the humiliation it demanded. As I placed them on the bed, I watched her breath hitch, her pupils dilate with anticipation.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” I said, running my hand over my own erection, flexing my muscles with a slow, deliberate movement. “You’re going to make yourself cum. Hard. I want to see it pour out of you. You don’t get this – this slow, exquisite torture – until you soak this bed for me.”

Her lips trembled, her body arching slightly as she shifted on the sheets, already slick with perspiration. “You’re not going to touch me?” she whispered, her voice laced with desperation.

“Not a finger,” I confirmed, my voice cold and unwavering. “You want me to fuck you? You’re going to give me a show. A performance worthy of my attention.”

I picked up the wand first, letting its cool metal slide against her skin, sending shivers through her body. Her moan was immediate, primal, a desperate cry for release. "That's it," I murmured, enjoying her escalating pleasure. "Let me hear how bad you need it."

She rolled her hips, grinding against the sheets, trying to force the pleasure out faster, but I knew her body too well. She was close, teetering on the edge of an orgasm, holding back just enough to prolong the torment. “Don’t stop,” I warned, my voice laced with a cruel satisfaction. “Now slide that glass toy in. Let me see how filthy you really are.”

Hesitation flickered across her face, but the burning need in her eyes quickly overcame her doubts. She grabbed the glass dildo, her fingers trembling slightly as she began to insert it, her body arching further with each thrust.

As she rode the toy, I leaned back in the chair at the edge of the bed, legs spread, abs flexed, my body glistening with sweat. My gaze traced every inch of her body, enjoying the visible signs of her mounting pleasure. “Eyes on me,” I murmured, my voice dripping with dominance. “You see what you’re begging for? This thick cock you keep whining about? You’re not getting a single inch until I watch you break.”

Her hips continued to grind, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she pushed herself to the limits of her endurance. Her nails clawed at the sheets, her body contorting in a desperate attempt to find release. “Daddy,” she whispered, her voice choked with pleasure and pain, “please…”

“Please, what?” I responded, tightening my grip on myself, savoring her agony. “Tell me why you need me so desperately.”

Her pleas turned into whimpers as her body began to lock up, her muscles seizing with the intensity of her orgasm. She cried out, her voice a mix of pain and ecstasy. “You’re soaked,” I muttered, my eyes tracing the glistening sheen of her thighs, the way she clutched at nothing. “Damn, you’re beautiful when you’re desperate.”

“You’re not gonna touch me?” she cried, her voice laced with panic.

“Not a finger,” I confirmed, my voice cold and resolute. “You want me to fuck you? You’re going to give me a show.”

Her hands trembled as she struggled to control her body, her cries intensifying as she realized she was trapped, forced to endure the exquisite torture of my gaze. As she reached the peak of her orgasm, she let out a primal scream, a torrent of pleasure and pain, before collapsing onto the bed, limp and exhausted.

Without hesitation, I rose from my chair and approached her, my movements deliberate and predatory. I stripped off my shirt, revealing my own hard-on, and slowly, deliberately, began to stroke myself, my eyes locked on hers, savoring her pleasure and pain. I ran my hand over my erection, flexing my muscles with each thrust, letting her know exactly what she was missing. “Eyes on me,” I growled, my voice low and menacing. “You see what you’re begging for? This thick cock you keep whining about? You’re not getting a single inch until I watch you make a damn mess.”

Her body trembled as she watched me, her eyes wide with a mixture of desperation and humiliation. She knew she was at my mercy, completely under my control. As I continued to stroke myself, her body convulsed, her moans echoing through the cabin.

Finally, she let out a final, desperate cry, her body collapsing in a heap of sweat and tears. I gently pushed her onto her back, my hand resting lightly on her breast, waiting for her to recover.

“Now,” I said, my voice filled with anticipation, “let’s see what you’ve got left.”

As she slowly regained her composure, I moved closer, my gaze lingering on her body, savoring the anticipation of what was to come. With a final, triumphant growl, I plunged in, and she cried out as her orgasm erupted, a torrent of pleasure and release that filled the cabin with its chaotic energy. The rain continued to pound against the windows, but inside, the world felt like a fever dream, a twisted pleasure born of dominance and submission. The JOI was complete.

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