We come to the most important part of etiquette: the orgasm. Or rather, the lack thereof. A sissy who cums without permission is a sissy who doesn’t deserve to wear lace. You will stay in a state of permanent, agonizing edge. I want your cock swollen and sensitive, your mind completely clouded by the need for a release that I am denying you.
When you’ve been a good little slut—when you’ve worn the right lace, kept your mouth shut, and endured my torment without a peep—I might decide to be “loving.” I’ll pull you close, my nails digging into your shoulders, and finally let you feel the warmth of my skin. I’ll kiss you deeply, tasting your desperation, while my hand finally slides under that expensive lace to wrap around your throbbing shaft.
I’ll stroke you slowly, teasing you right to the brink, making you moan and sob into my neck. And just as you’re about to blow, just as your toes are curling and your breath is hitching, I’ll squeeze tight and stop. I’ll look you in the eyes with a wicked smirk and tell you that you haven’t earned it yet.
You’ll collapse at my feet, shaking and spent without ever having reached the finish line. That’s the beauty of being my sissy. You live for the tease, you thrive on the denial, and you love me all the more for the way I break you. Now, go put on the red lace thong and wait for me in the bedroom. Be quick, or I’ll find a reason to put you back in those granny panties for a week
Lenora
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