Whatever It Takes Pt. 01: Trust - Sex Stories

Whatever It Takes Pt. 01: Trust

... it into my cheek, then my mouth.

I understood, I wanted to fix things, and so I kissed the arch of her foot, sucked at her toe, tongued her sole, the taste all tang and salt. And Sarah regarding me, along the length of her leg - a suggestion of black panties beneath the hem of her skirt - all with a look which signalled something new, something different, something that I did not recognise.

And me, grovelling against the floor, the taste of her still against my tongue; I, harder than ever before, my near-five-inches-but-not-quite tenting my trousers. Hard, harder than any other time with Sarah. Harder than any time with Kayla.

'Whatever it takes,' I said, all leading to this moment. To Sarah, the promise, and the box. 'Whatever it takes.'

'I need three things: trust, truth, and change. But it begins with trust.' She pushed the box and tipped the contents onto the table before me. A steel ring, a steel mesh cage, a key.

'What is?' I asked.

'You'll see.'

Sarah scooped it up and led me into the bathroom.

'Strip,' she said.

'What?'

'Whatever it takes,' she reminded, and so I disrobed, my cock hard and angry red-blue. She looked down, then to my face, with something like pity and something like disgust. She turned, rummaged through the medicine cabinet and removed her razor and foam.

I started to protest.

'You said, "Whatever it takes." If you didn't mean that, you can stop wasting my time and you can leave right now. Otherwise, shut the fuck ...

... up, Tom.' Her face was hard, unyielding, imperious. Sarah had never looked more beautiful than in that moment.

She gripped my balls, her palm cold, tightening her grip and forcing me up onto my toes. My cock twitched, she sneered, relaxed just a little, and then lathered me up with the foam.

'You might want to hold still for this.'

She took the razor, ran it under the hot water, and, beginning with my balls, working in long methodical sweeps, she shaved me smooth. She rinsed and patted me dry with a hand towel. I was rock hard, vivid blue veins running the length of my shaft. My 4 and a half inches rigid and throbbing. But naked and shaved bare, I looked smaller, child-like, pathetic. She gripped my shaft, stroked once, twice as I leaned into it, so close to release, then, with a half-twist, she let me go.

'Don't get too excited,' she said, 'it'll be a long time before I'll be touching that again.'

She said, 'a long time,' which was objectively less time than never. That gave me something to hope for, something to work toward, something to hold on to.

She ran the cold water tap, rinsed the towel, and then pressed it, wet, icy, against my cock.

'Fuck,' I said, with the shock of it. Sarah stopped me with a look. I shrivelled, I shrank.

She held my balls, briefly, and then pushed them roughly through the steel ring. I winced, but kept quiet. She then threaded my flaccid dick through before turning the ring so that the hinge was positioned to the top. She ...