Cryptic

by Remittance Girl © 2011

"Solve it and I'll let you come."

Jason looked up at Mariella with lost, tear-brimmed eyes. Beneath the pale skin of his splayed upper thighs, his muscles lurched and twitched. The sound he made in his throat was a thick concoction of misery and frustration, with just a little rage for good measure.

It was enough to make Mariella's cunt weep. There, on a broad, red plush cushion, on the low sturdy coffee table of her private study, her sweet pet perched naked, on his knees, his hands cuffed to his ankles with just enough play to reach for, but not quite touch, his cock.

It stood angrily purple and achingly erect like soldier having a temper tantrum. A glistening trail of precum glossed the underside and bathed his swollen balls. He might as well have had a cunt for all the moisture he produces.

"Oh, pretty thing... don't disappoint me," Mariella purred encouragingly.

With the most precise of motions, she bent forward, let a curtain of long, black glossy hair tumble off her shoulder, and give him a glimpse of her considerable breasts, cupped invitingly in a lacy cream bra.

With the flesh-coloured nub of the yellow pencil's eraser, she teased the tender little spot beneath the head of his cock and sighed. "Would you like to hear the clue again?"

"Yes, please...."

"Yes, please what?" She stood up abruptly and traced the sticky eraser over her lips.  It would drive him mad, of course. She could read his mind like the back of a cereal box and knew that, at that precise moment, he dreamt of exploding between her lips, into her hot, dark mouth.

But at this rate, that was never going to happen.

"Please, M-m-mistress of the Cryptic Crosswords." The last of her title all came out in a rush.

She bend down again, smiled, and pushed her dark-framed glasses up to the bridge of her nose.

"'A name is troublesome'. Seven letters. Close your eyes, concentrate."

Obediently, Jason closed his eyes and his brow furrowed. "Eight letters?" he asked plaintively.

His cock jumped as she trailed her cool fingertips over the engorged head. It bounced and twitched.

"Mmm. Just seven. You can do it."

"I... I can't. I can't think. I'm going to explode."

There was something so delicious about watching Jason struggle to think straight while he was like this. She loved it and it made her feel cruel at the same time, a combination that left her cunt wet and her clit throbbing.

Instead of relenting, she took the opposite approach and curled her hand around the shaft of his cock, very close to the base, and squeezed him with ferocity. Her nails made nasty little half-moon welts in the pale, veiny skin.

"Stop whining, pussyboy.  THINK!"

Jason gasped, gulped at the air, and shuddered.  "I can't! I'm confused."

"So is the answer, my little puzzleslut. What happens when you're troubled?" She asked harshly, giving his cock one good jerk to get his attention. The yelp was half pleasure, half pain. It made Mariella smile.

He drew a deep, shuddering breath. "Everything's.... all mixed up?"

"Exactly!" she retorted. Releasing his cock , she watched it bob back up, pointing at the ceiling.

Walking around the table, she came up behind him, pressed her body against his naked back, slid her arms around his chest and took each of his pale nipples between a thumb and a forefinger. He was panting, now. Anticipating her pinch.

"And WHAT is all mixed up?" she hissed into his ear.

"I am!" Jason whimpered.

Even as she laughed at the answer, she gave each of his nubs a sharp, nasty tug and squeeze. "In the puzzle, slut!"

"Oh, god... the first part. The first part!"

"Good boy," she purred, and slid one hand back down to his erection.  With the pad of her finger she smeared the flow of precum around his cockhead. "You're almost there, my sweet."

"Jesus! It's an anagram!" he shouted with relief.

"Mmm. Bravo."  With long, slow strokes, she began to jerk him off. Feeling his body strain, hearing the metal links on his restraints jingle as he convulsively tried to reach forward. "Now solve it."

_______
© 2011 Remittance Girl. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without written permission from the author.

Bio: Who is Remittance Girl? Read her bio on the Erotica Readers & Writers Association website.

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