Fever Dreams – The Final Rose – Fetish


Author’s notes:

-Please review the story tags before you read this- it might save you some time. Particularly if femdom, tease/denial, and/or FLR aren’t your cup of tea.

-These are the same characters as in Fever Dreams, but this story can stand alone; there’s no need to read that one first.

-If you’re interested, please feel free to correspond. I at all times appreciate thoughtful feedback and respectful discussion. And I love to chat with likeminded kinksters.

-And most of all, I hope you enjoy!

“Is not general incivility the very essence of love?”

-Jane Austen

It’s late Sunday afternoon, and we’re lazing in bed together. It’s our weekly “couples time,” so we’re messing around a bit. It’s foreplay.

Well, sorta.

Me, I’m all comfy in my favorite soft pink sweats, sitting propped up among the pillows. I’m binge-watching my favorite reality dating show on my iPad. I’m totally chill.

I’m so relaxed that there are moments when I almost lose track of how much I’m tormenting my poor, beloved hubby Ethan, who’s right next to me. Almost, that is.

You see, Ethan’s finally finished his entire chore list for the week (which, btw, was a particularly long one!), including that big retiling project on the back patio. So, now he’s getting his “reward.”

After cleaning himself up nice for me (I can not stand it when he comes to bed all grimy!), I had him strip down and join me in bed. And now he’s lying here next to me, totally naked.

Except, unlike me, he’s not exactly relaxing. Instead, he’s tied up securely. His 4 limbs are all spread and strapped to the corners of the bed, using some of his old neckties. That way, he can not move, or disrupt me from watching my show.

And that way, I can oh-so-lightly stroke and tease his desperately-denied cock as much as I like. And there’s nothing he can do to stop me.

In a way, it’s a pretty casual thing. For me, at least. With my iPad on my lap, my freshly-manicured pink nails are free to trace slow, lazy, tickly lines up, down, and all around his fully vulnerable, fully swollen, and now fully rigid boy bits.

I mostly keep it pretty light. I do just enough to keep him hard, but certainly not enough to let him cum. Over the past year or so, I’ve gotten a lot of practice with this. So now, I’m actually sort of an expert, lol!

Seriously, at this point, I can tell just when he’s getting to the edge. And I can bring him right up to the rim and let him sit there, without making him spill over.

And when he gets too close? Then I just lay off for a while, and let him settle down a little. And then when he’s ready, I do it all over again. And again. And…, well, you get the picture!

At this point, teasing him like this is almost second nature to me. The stroking, and the flicking, and the light scratching, (and sometimes, the heavier scratching!)- I do it all almost absentmindedly. In a way, I even discover it kinda soothing.

But for Ethan, well, I know it’s pure torture. Delicious torture, for sure. But still torture. But with tease and denial, that’s the whole idea, right?

So today, we’ve already been at this for a good while now. I’m into a 2nd episode of my show (it’s the season finale- they’re in Cancun!), so that means he’s already been moaning pathetically beside me for what… an hour? A hour and a half? We could set a new record, lol!

It’s a good thing he’s gagged. I’m using the new one, the one that straps tightly around his head. It works really well, and keeps his little whimpers and grunts from distracting me too much from my show. And I can not wait to see which girl gets the final rose! (But let’s be clear, it had better be Sheena, and not that slutty Brittany.)

And then, while Ethan writhes in semi-muted agony beside me, I have one of those annoying, little nagging moments when I wonder if maybe I’m being just a little too cruel? Honestly, I rarely feel this way anymore. But occasionally, an old memory will play in the back of my head, and I’ll hear what my sweet Daddy at all times used to say, when he wondered I was acting mean.

«Katie,» he’d sigh and remind me, in his soft, often slightly exasperated, but utterly fatherly tone, «You catch more flies with sugar, than you do with vinegar.»

Now why anyone would actually want to catch flies was at all times beyond me- except of course, to get them out of your house. But there’s no doubt that my hubby Ethan is truly caught. In fact, besides being literally bound at the moment, he’s also usually caged. Or rather, his little pecker is.

As it stands with us, during these training sessions (Whoops! Lol, I mean when I “reward” him during our “couples time!”) is one of the rare moments when his cock cage is allowed off. Right now, it’s sitting open on the bedside table, along with some of our other toys, and with the keys I usually wear on a silver chain around my neck.

So yeah, Ethan’s pretty well caught in my sticky web. And sorry Daddy, but I wouldn’t say it was all “sugar and spice” that got him there!

Of course, with his little catching flies talks, Daddy wasn’t planning on me sexually dominating my future husband, lol! He just wanted me to get along with people. He was at all times encouraging me to be nicer, and telling me it was better to put others first. And of course, that was especially expected of me, being a girl and all.

I guess I did need reminding sometimes. I could be a bit of a brat when I was little. Well, maybe more than a bit.

You see, I was an only child, and my mom died young. So with it being just the two of us, I think Daddy had his hands full with me. He was a soft-spoken and gentle man, and he had a generous spirit too. I think he couldn’t help but spoil me. But as I grew, I also think he worried that he’d made me too headstrong, and that no man would put up with me. I guess sometimes, I still get a twinge of his worries in me.

As I get lost in my thoughts about Daddy and me, I discover that my hand has drifted off Ethan’s cock for the moment, and I’m just cupping his balls, gently kneading them a bit. It’s ok though. He was panting pretty heavily before, so I can see that he could use a little break.

In fact, he’s breathing really deeply right now, with his eyes closed- almost like he’s meditating. Sometimes he falls into this kind of state when we do this. I think it lets him recover a bit.

I decide to leave him there for the moment- there’s no need to escalate things right now. So I continue with my gentle massage of his nicely swollen sacs. For now.

Anyway, yeah, I guess I was a bit entitled as child, at all times throwing tantrums and all. And generally, I think it kinda worked with Daddy, as I often got my way.

It wasn’t until my later teenage years that I gradually toned it down some. Especially as I got interested in boys. I learned to be less outwardly selfish, and tried to show my sweet side more.

Actually, it really wasn’t all that hard of a transition for me. I was at all times pretty, and so I naturally attracted a lot of attention anyway. Besides, I quickly learned that there were more subtle methods of getting what I wanted from boys. You know, the toss of the hair, the light touch on the arm, the quick flash of some skin- all those flirting tools of the trade.

So instead of making demands, I channeled my energies into coaxing what I wanted from others. It was fun figuring how to tease a guy, how to get him excited, and willing to please me. I found that a little flirting was usually a very good way to get all sorts of attention. And no doubt, I got pretty good at it!

But still, as I grew, all those comments from Daddy, (and frankly from everyone else around me too), well, they started to sink in. So I gradually got used to letting boys take the lead, and accepted that my role was to follow them, and try be sweet and attentive. While it was never really who I was deep inside, it still became sort of a habit. Even if, as it turns out, that old bratty part of me was just lying quiet inside me, biding its time.

At this point, I decide Ethan’s calmed down enough, and I begin in with some light stroking again, using just my forefinger. It falls into a slow rhythm, tracing up and down the bottom of his shaft. But slowly.

And he responds as expected, bit by bit swelling back to fullness, standing right up, and his veins all popping out and all.

After several minutes of this, I can see that he’s getting pretty aroused again. Not at the edge yet, but getting there. So, I don’t stop. I just go slower. Way too slow to push him over. Really just a light flicking now.

Ethan groans through his gag. It’s such torture. He hates it. And yeah, he loves it too.

“I know babe, you were starting to get close, right? But don’t worry, I’m watching. I wouldn’t let you spill.”

And he groans again. A little louder.

Anyway, by the time I was 18, when I started dating for real, I knew how to hold my tongue pretty well. It was understood that the boy was supposed to make the first move. He was supposed to get to feel powerful, like he had won me. Even if I had subtly led him there without him realizing it.

In the same kind of way, it was understood that, with sex, a boy needed to get his rocks off. It didn’t really officially count as sex if he didn’t, right? And of course, it was my job to make that happen. Sure, I could tease him up a bit. But I knew that leaving a boy with blue balls was just “not nice.”

As I’m thinking about all this, I see on my show that it’s that floozy Brittany’s turn for a final date night with Brock, this season’s bachelor. She shows up wearing this skin tight red dress, cut low enough to flash some serious cleavage. And believe me, she’s got some very nice curves on her. But she’s such a skank! I really can not stand her. Although damn, I have to admit that she does have game.

Predictably, Brock is almost drooling when he greets her. And their hello hug seems to go on just a tad too long. When they separate, I’m pretty sure I see him tenting in his slacks!

And then as they walk hand-in-hand to the restaurant, with the sun setting over the deep blue sea behind them, she keeps finding methods to have contact with him, stumbling and bumping into him, letting her boobs press into his side.

Brock seems pretty turned on by her. You can see it in how he looks at her, kinda in awe and all. But oddly, he seems a little distracted too- like he’s wrestling with his final decision, maybe?

Like during the meal, there’s a couple of times when Brittany says something, and there’s an awkward pause, like Brock was thinking about something else, and not really listening. I’m wondering if he’s got mixed feelings. I don’t know, maybe not.

I tilt my iPad down toward Ethan.

“Mmm, look at that hot outfit Brittany’s got on, babe. She’s going all out to get that final rose!”

Ethan’s cock is still rigid from my light stroking. It bobs when I give it a little tap, like he’s wagging his tail at me.

But he’s barely aware of this. He’s been lost in a subby haze again for a little while now, and looks up at me, all confused. So I give him a quick flourish of full-handed strokes, just to get his attention.

That gets him focused. He moans into his gag, then catches up to me, and nods his head furiously in agreement.

And I resume my lighter one-finger stroking.

“I can’t stand Brittany. But damn, I want that dress! Maybe I’ll get it online and wear it for you, babe. It would be perfect for a nice night out at Luigi’s. Wearing that, I bet he’d even come to our table and say hello, and flirt with me. You know how he has eyes for me. Would you like that, babe?”

Ethan nods again, and I can feel his dick throb in my hand.

“But I’m still rooting for Sheena to win. She’s so pretty. Less busty than Brittany, but she’s slender and fit. More like me.

“And besides, she’s way smarter and cooler than Brittany. I think Brock would get bored with Brittany pretty fast. But Sheena, she’d know how to keep him keen. She’s got a seriously devious streak in her. And I loved that black leather jumpsuit she wore for their last date, when he took for a drive to that overlook spot. She looked so powerful. So hot!”

Ethan just keeps nodding. He knows that it’s in his best interest to agree with me about these things.

“And hot damn, look at that Brock! He looks so manly in his tan suit. Let’s face it, he’s a total stud, being a former football player and all, with those yummy chiseled abs. I’d like to go on a tropical stroll with him!”

Ethan looks petrified, and something protest-ish garbles from behind his gag. But his cock jumps and he throbs again in my hand. Like the beta he thrills to be. We both know where we stand.

Of course, it wasn’t always this way with Ethan and me. When we first met at our state U, I was actually kinda intimidated by him.

I was a Sophomore then, and Ethan was just starting his Masters in Chem, which made him the TA for my 101 course. (That’s when I was still taking those boring science courses, before I ditched them to be an English lit major. Best decision ever.)

Anyway, there he was at the front of the lecture hall, all tall and lean. He had a cool, hipster vibe about him then, and I thought he was really cute. I loved how boyish he seemed, with his untucked plaid shirts and faded T’s, and the way he had to keep brushing his bangs out of his eyes. I felt like he’d clean up really nice, with a little guidance from me, of course.

But as a TA, he didn’t need any help at all. He clearly knew his stuff. And he was patient with us, taking the time to spell things out in a soft-spoken way. So clearly, you could see that he was really kind too.

I asked around, and heard that he’d dated someone from my dorm last semester, and that he’d recently broken up with her. That seemed weird to me, because I knew her, and she was so nice, and really pretty too. But who knows what goes on behind closed doors, right? Anyway, that meant he was probably available, which was my real question after all.

So I flirted with him one day, during his office hours. I laid it on pretty thick, so there’d be no doubt I was interested. I wore my black slim jeans, and a tight red sweater which showed by bust really well. I pretended that I couldn’t understand some combustion reactions or something (well, really, some of it was hard!). And I got all girly and helpless, saying I was worried I would fail the course, and could he help me. You know, how I needed him to save me and all.

Well, he totally rose to the occasion. He spent a good 2 hours patiently explaining things to me. There we were in his office, with him writing out equations on his notepad between us, and me leaning in closer and closer to him, occasionally brushing against him by mistake (yeah, right). I think I even sucked on my pen a little, lol. I know, pretty subtle, right? But the sexual tension gradually got pretty thick between us. It was actually really fun. And so hot too!

And it worked. We got to chatting, and I got him to ask me out for drinks at O’Grady’s that weekend. And when we dated that Saturday night, we had a great time! He was really smart and pretty funny too. And being 4 years older than me, he seemed so sophisticated to me then.

He was from the city, so he seemed way more worldly than me back then. Like he knew about all this music and food and movies and stuff, that was all still pretty foreign to small-town me. I was impressed. But if he sensed that, he never showed it, or talked down to me at all.

In fact, he was always very kind. I sensed a gentleness in him, that kinda reminded me of Daddy. In a way, I think part of me knew that Ethan was the one pretty much right away. I could just feel it. He felt so comfortable, and somehow I knew I could trust him.

Well that night at O’Grady’s, I kept smiling at him, and touching him, and making really deep eye-contact. And pretty soon we were making out in the booth, at the back of the bar. We started dating right then, and we’ve been together ever since!

I smile to myself as I remember that night. We’ve come such a long, long way since then.

Then I smile down at Ethan, but he doesn’t see. He’s looking meditative again, lost in a haze. On a whim, I give his balls a quick slap. Just to get his attention. And to remind him who’s boss.

He yelps!

And I giggle, and then go back to my light stroking.

But in those early days, believe me, I there was no ball slapping going on at all. I was all sugar, just like Daddy said I should be. I acted sweet, and cheery, laughing at his jokes, and hanging on every word. He ate it up, of course. All men do. But to be fair, it wasn’t really fake. It was easy to be nice, because I really liked him.

And I know he found me pretty. He always responded really well to my flirting. I mean, I learned what he liked pretty quickly (my ass, lol, most definitely!). But he also liked when I was girlish and played a little hard to get. I found that I could always win him over with a little pouting, or by making him wait a bit. And if I also showed him a little skin, he’d freeze up a little, and usually let me have my way.

Honestly, right from the start, I always loved it when I got Ethan all flustered. He’s so adorable that way. I know, I know- total foreshadowing, right?

Now when it came to sex, he wasn’t my first by a long shot. I’d already played the field a bit at school. And actually, I’d dated some pretty hot guys too, mostly jock types. They were fun, for sure, and damn, some could go all night, which I certainly wasn’t complaining about. But as boyfriends, they just weren’t keepers, you know?

With Ethan, it was deeper, somehow. I felt much more connected to him right away. I liked the way he would caress me, like he really appreciated me. Like I was something really special. And yeah, when we got down to business, I liked the way his cock filled me up too. Even if he was more of a gentle type of lover.

Now in those early days, I tried hard to be a “good” girlfriend, and I made sure to please him. He always got off, even if I was sometimes left hanging. But that’s normal, right? I mean when you’re all sugar and spice.

Still, in the back of my head, I sometimes felt like he was holding back somehow. Like there was something a little too restrained in how we fucked. Like I was made of glass or something. Honestly, he could be more gentle with me than I needed. Or wanted.

Just then, on my show, it’s the end of Brittany and Brock’s date. They’ve had their candlelight meal, and then they take off their shoes and walk in the surf together. It’s all very romantic and he seems into her enough, although he’s still sort of rigid with her somehow. It’s like he’s being careful not to go too far. Which is weird, given how she’s throwing herself at him. Watching this, it gives me some hope that maybe he’s saving himself for Sheena.

“What do you think, babe?” I tilt the

iPad to Ethan again. “Is Brittany hot enough for our stud Brock?”

Ethan glances quickly at the screen, but then his eyes jerk shut when I suddenly up the pace of my stroking, and pay some special attention to the ring around his cock head. I figure it’s time for a nice edge.

I speed it up a bit. And he responds in kind. He moans and arches his back, trying to move himself toward my hand and increase the friction- trying to get just enough rubbing to reach his release point. And for a moment, I let him try. He actually gets some nice stimulation off me. And I feel him building up to edge. God, I love to get him this way!

Bit by bit, he gets right to that desperate place. His muscles get all clenched. His dick is full and throbbing. His balls are up and tight. He’s at full mast now, ready to blow! So incredibly close, and…..

I stop.

“Nope. Ah, ah, ah!” I say in my best sing-songy, teasing tone.

“Not this time, babe. I’m making you wait.” And then I laugh.

error: Content is protected due to Copyright law !