Mistress Kay

Sweet boy…

Oh, my precious little one… already throbbing just from hearing Mommy’s voice? Good. That’s exactly where I want you—desperate, leaking, and completely under my control. Today we’re playing edging phone sex, and you’re not allowed to cum until I say so. Maybe not even then. Mommy decides.

Strip for me, sweet boy. Slowly. Let me picture that needy cock springing free, already slick at the tip because you know what’s coming. Now wrap your hand around it—gentle at first. Just glide up and down, nice and slow. Feel every ridge, every vein pulsing for Mommy. Whisper my name with each stroke: “Kay… Mommy Kay…”

Faster now. Grip tighter. Pump like you mean it—but stop. Hands off. Right at the edge. I want to hear that frustrated whimper over the phone. “Mommy, please…” Beg all you want, baby. Mommy loves when her sweet boy suffers so prettily for her.

Again. Start slow, build up. Imagine my crimson nails tracing your balls, squeezing just enough to remind you who owns them. Edge closer… closer… then stop. Breathe. Count to ten for Mommy. One… two… good boy. You’re doing so well holding back. But we’re not done. Mommy wants you aching, dripping, ruined without release.

One more round. Stroke hard and fast now—think of Mommy’s voice purring in your ear, my lips brushing your tip if you were lucky enough to kneel before me. Feel the pressure build, the heat, the desperate throb. You’re so close… so fucking close… and then—stop. Hands behind your back. No touching. Just throb for me, sweet boy. Let it hurt a little. That’s the point.

If you’ve been very good—if you’ve sent a tribute to prove your devotion—maybe Mommy will let you finish next time. Or maybe I’ll keep you denied for days. Locked up, leaking, thinking only of me. Your orgasms belong to Mommy now. Call me, sweet boy. Let’s see how long you can last before you break.