The other night, my wife came home and announced, “I want to try something.”

“And what’s that?” I asked, handing her a martini — extra dry with barely any vermouth and a twist of lemon, just the way she likes it.

I was already excited, though I took care not to show it. I could tell by her cool voice and appraising air that the “something” would be rather special. Naomi can be very creative when the mood strikes her. Some might say that her creativity verges on sadism, but I say all the better.

“Remember that little incident the other night?” Naomi asked with a smile. That smile, let me tell you, can take your breath away. But my girl is breathtaking in general. I’m a sucker for dark hair, and Naomi’s is long, straight and midnight black. She’s been told multiple times that she could easily be a model, what with her high cheekbones and tall, leggy build. No woman turns me on more. 

At the moment, though, I was nervously thinking about the “little incident” she’d brought up.

We’d recently gone out for drinks to celebrate my promotion, and by the time we got home, we were both as horny as hell. We tore off each other’s clothes and tumbled onto the mattress. My cock was as hard as a rock as I slid into her, and feeling her pussy wrapped around my meat was like a fantastic dream. I was on top of her, while she held on to the sheets and readied herself for a good old-fashioned pussy-pounding.

“Come on,” she groaned. “Fuck me, little man. Give me that cock.”

Naomi’s dominant side often comes out when we fuck. It’s always there, just under the surface, but something about sex really brings out the domme in her.

That night, though, I’m not sure what happened. I came after only a few thrusts. Normally, we both like long and drawn-out fucking. Naomi really likes it when I’m rough with her pussy. But that night, as hard as I tried to hold on, I came early. I felt my load spurting into her. She let out a feline-sounding wail of loss, and I felt really guilty about disappointing her. But Naomi stroked my cheek and told me it was all right, assuring me I could make it up to her later.

That night I did get a spanking, by the way. I kind of thought that was what she meant by me making it up to her. I shouldn’t have been so naïve.

But back to my latest tale. A little hesitantly, I assured her I did indeed remember the “incident.”

“It was distressing,” she said casually. She tasted her martini before taking off her earrings. “You know, I really love it when you stay hard inside me for, oh, at least half an hour.”

“Uh-huh,” I replied, gulping nervously. A half hour sounded a little intimidating to me, though I’d easily gone longer.

“And for you to come so soon, I was so disappointed,” she said, slowly unbuttoning her blouse. A moment later her bra came off, revealing her glorious tits. Watching her undress was like watching a lusciously prolonged striptease. Suddenly, my performance anxiety evaporated. In the state I was in just then, staying hard for a half hour seemed very doable.

She continued by announcing, “I think we should do something about it.” She observed me with those incredible dark eyes, her gaze equal parts sweet and absolutely unrelenting. “I have a plan in mind.”

Naomi’s plan was simple. I would be given exactly 30 minutes of cockteasing while I was restrained. The particulars of the teasing would be entirely up to my wife’s discretion, of course. She wouldn’t let me know what was coming in advance. I had to hold my load until the timer announced my half hour was up. If I came too soon, I would be disciplined. My punishment would also be up to Naomi, and I knew she was capable of some truly wicked shit. On the other hand, if I did manage to make it past the 30 minutes, I would be rewarded with an entire evening’s worth of oral attention from Naomi. And let me tell you, Naomi’s lips around my shaft or her tongue on my asshole were both things I was willing to walk through hell for.

The idea, of course, was that all this would “encourage” me to develop control over my orgasms.

We got started immediately. Naomi eased my cock and balls out of the fly of my briefs. Having my junk hanging out like that was supposed to isolate it more effectively than me just being naked. Naomi was careful not to touch my crotch during her preparations, and good thing, too. I hadn’t jerked off or received any attention from my wife during the previous few days, so I was stiff to the point of soreness. I think I would have shot off if she’d just looked at me too hard.

For the restraint part, she sat me down in a straight-backed chair with my arms up and my wrists cuffed at the back of my neck. Naomi set the timer on her smartphone, and the fun began.

She went on her knees before me, but there was nothing submissive in her demeanor. Her eyes drilled into mine, daring me to look away. I couldn’t. I was breathing hard, and my rigid cock felt as if it was throbbing. This incredibly beautiful woman could do anything she wanted to me. It was an intoxicating thought.

Naomi smiled, a sly, insinuating smile, and reached for my dick. She squeezed it hard, thumbing the underside of my cockhead and smearing the pearl of pre-come that hung at its tip.

“Thirty minutes,” she whispered. “I really don’t think you’re going to make it. I think you’re going to blast all over my hand at any second. Poor baby. Can’t even keep from coming when Naomi tells you to hold it. What a disappointment!”

I knew what she was doing. She was tempting me to relax and give up before the game even started. Deep down, she wanted me to win, of course. At the same time, my winning meant that she had to lose. It was a conundrum for her. I shut my eyes, marshalling my inner resources as best as I could.

As the minutes crawled by, Naomi treated me to the most devious delights she could devise. She slid her long-nailed fingers under my ball sac, forcing my ass to rise up off my seat. She juggled my nads on the tips of her fingers, a delicious feeling that I knew could easily turn into a sickening bolt of pain. She blew on my dickhead, a sensation so delicate I could barely stand it. If I let it get to me, I knew all hope was gone. The regular diddling of her fingers on my scrotum and that whispery kiss of breath on my crown could easily make me come.

If I had just jacked off in the men’s room at work that morning, it would have been so much easier to hold my load then.

“Poor thing,” Naomi whispered, rising to her feet. She padded over to the dresser, chanting in a sort of singsong way, “Poor baby wants to come. Poor baby wants to squirt. Poor baby’s balls are starting to hurt.”

And they were starting to hurt, even without my wife’s fingers pressing into them. I could see more pre-come emerging. It was practically dripping from my impatient rod.

Naomi returned with a tiny round container in her hand. She unscrewed the top of it, scooped out some of the gel inside and smeared it around the rim of my cockhead. Then my left nipple was similarly anointed. A moment later, both my nipple and dick felt as though they were being teased with ice cubes. It was menthol — harmless, but very useful for accenting sensations.

My right nip didn’t get any gel, but it didn’t escape Naomi’s attentions. She pressed her mouth to it, kissing and sucking it, licking it with the tip of her tongue. It was agonizingly wonderful, and combined with the freezing sensation of the menthol on my other nip, I could barely stand it.

The gel Naomi had put on my cockhead provoked an even stronger reaction. The cold burning focused my attention on that one area, and when Naomi reached down and wrapped her fingers round my shaft, I wanted badly to just push myself in and out of her fist until I lost my load completely and coated her palm with my cream.

But I couldn’t do that. How much time did I have left? Fifteen minutes? Twenty? Surely no more than that. But Naomi had left her phone on the bed, where I couldn’t see the timer counting down. I wouldn’t know how much time was left at any given point. I would only know when I had run out of time completely.

A deep, tormenting itch was throbbing inside my cock and balls. The menthol and Naomi’s lazily stroking hand made it worse. My right nipple ached from her kisses and not quite gentle bites, and the strangely carnal sounds of her sucking and licking and breathing had me hornier than I could remember being in years.

“Go ahead,” Naomi whispered. “Make a big one for me, a big splat in my hand.” I hissed as her fingers tightened on my rod and pulled on it slowly. “What does it matter if you lose and I win?”

What indeed? I knew I could take whatever punishment she could think up. It would be nothing but pleasure with Naomi dishing it out. But some ingrained streak of stubbornness made me continue to hold out. She’d wanted me to wait until 30 minutes were up, and I would see it through if it killed me. I took a deep breath and resolved that I would not break, no matter what.

But then disaster struck. Without warning, Naomi rose and seized my earlobe between her teeth. The sudden shock of pain made me cry out in a mixture of pleasure and agony. All of the delicious sensations bombarding me seemed to leap in intensity. Before I knew what I was doing, my body lurched as much as it could in my bonds. Naomi’s iron grip closed around my cock, and that did it. I gasped and whimpered as my come pumped out of me and dripped between her fingers and onto the floor.

Breathing raggedly, I said, “I’m sorry. I failed.” I was desolate and prepared to accept any punishment she’d dole out. But Naomi only laughed.

“Silly! What are you talking about? You won! The 30 minutes passed ages ago!”

“But the alarm,” I faltered.

“Oh, that.” Naomi leaned over and picked up her phone. “Wouldn’t you know? I had the sound turned off.” She gave me the most wicked smile I could ever remember seeing on her.

After I had a quick shower to wash off the menthol, Naomi made good on her promise — and let me tell you, it was one hell of a night.