Chapter 13: The Letter

Penny awoke remembering only her Mistress's command: no matter how aroused she might be, no matter how intense her desire for climax, she could not come until the taste of honey touched her tongue.

As her eyes opened from her trance and awareness returned to her, she could feel the cold stone at her back. Her arms and legs were trapped in cuffs that were attached to the wall via short chains, keeping her in an "X" position balanced precariously on the tall heels that, together with her collar, were the only pieces of clothing that she wore.

Her body was alive with arousal. Her nipples throbbed with their desire for touch. Her sex teemed with a deep, frustrated lust that was aching to burst out of her. Her skin was almost painfully sensitive, burning with her passion and her need.

And on that sensitive skin, Penny could feel something – something thick and sticky. She looked down to see her chest coated in a thick layer of oozing, amber liquid, that slid slowly, tantalizingly, down her breasts, dripping slowly off of her erect, rock-hard nipples. Honey also coated her stomach, pooling slightly in her navel and running ever so slowly down her abdomen, the sweet substance moving over sex, mixing with her own juices. Even her legs were coated in the syrupy fluid, tickling her inner thighs and stimulating the back of her knees and her ankles.

The aroma of all of this honey flooded her nostrils, spurring on her lust and desire. She knew that with one small taste of this thick nectar that covered so much of her body, she would find release; that she would unlock the passion that was trapped so firmly and intensely within her.

But alas, no matter how hard she strained, no matter which way she twisted and turned in her bonds, the honey remained out of her tongue's reach. She felt it continue to drip over her skin – skin heightened in its sensitivity by her arousal, and could see it glisten, the amber hues glowing in the soft light that bathed her. But try as she might, the honey that ran over her remained maddeningly just beyond the reach of her eager tongue.

Penny moaned – a long and deep moan that slowly degraded into a near sob. The frustration was unlike anything she had ever felt before – it was the need of days of pent up arousal and denial. And the closeness of her release – the crushing nearness of the key to the climax that she longed for – only drove her desire higher; increased its intensity.

Suddenly, Mistress was before her. For a moment the tall woman just stared down at her captive, a sly grin spreading over her face as Penny looked up at her with pleading eyes, knowing that she was at her Mistress's mercy; knowing that her Mistress was enjoying her torment; aching with arousal at the control that Mistress had over her.

Penny noticed that, from somewhere in the gloom that surrounded the circle of soft light that surrounded her, Mistress had picked something up. It only took her a moment to recognize what it was: a large honey jar! A thick wooden spoon was resting in the open jar, and as Mistress withdrew this spoon from the jar, the honey that covered it ran down its surface, collecting in the shallow bowl before spilling over the edge. The thick substance dripped all the way to the floor, creating a single column of golden honey as more and more honey fell from the spoon's surface only to collect in a pool in front of Mistress's feet.

Penny began to whimper helplessly, the honey so infuriatingly close, yet still so far from her reach. And then, Mistress began to bring the spoon closer – holding it high in the air so that the column of honey was taller than Penny, she began to move it closer, and closer to Penny. In desperate anticipation, Penny strained her neck forward, stuck her tongue out, and prepared to feel the orgasm that had been building within her wash over her entire mind and body.

But then, Mistress's hand stopped. The stream of honey was less than inch away from Penny's tongue, but Mistress would not bring it any closer. With the smell of the honey flooding her nose, Penny strained against her bonds – the metal of her cuffs feeling as though it were cutting into her skin as she thrust her honey-covered body forward. She pulled her tongue into a cone, trying to extend it as far as it could possibly go, doing all that she could to get just a single small taste of the golden liquid that would give her her release.

But every time that Penny managed to move just a bit closer, to wiggle just a bit further in her chains, or to stretch her aching muscles just a centimeter nearer, Mistress would move the spoon back, always keeping the honey millimeters away from her desperate, hungry tongue.

Penny could feel sweat covering her body with the effort of reaching so far; could sense it mixing with the honey that still ran over her naked form. She knew that her muscles must be clearly visible due to all of the strain that they were under as she thrust her body forward to the very limits of its ability. And tears had begun to run, unbidden, down her face as the futility of it all overwhelmed her. The honey remained so close, and yet so damningly beyond her reach.

Over the sound of her own labored breathing and the pounding of her pulse in her ears, Penny suddenly became aware of another sound. A harsh, repetitive sound that tore through her mind like a siren. As the sound persisted, Mistress seemed to slowly dissolve before her, the honey simply vanishing into the dark shroud at the edge of the light. Penny felt her eyes fluttering...

... And finally opened them to hear the sound of her alarm clock blaring on the nightstand next to her bed. As she emerged from the dream, her body still ached with its need and she could feel the sheets below her sopping with her sweat, and the juices that had been flowing from her.

"Damn!" Penny thought to herself. "It's happened again." It was, after all, the third night in a row that she had woken up following dreams about Mistress Catherine teasing her – bringing her so close to climax but denying her release. Each time she'd awoken in the morning flush with arousal from the dream, but each morning she'd had some reason that she couldn't take the time to finish herself off, even though she knew it would only take a few seconds due to all of the pent up arousal.

On Saturday she had awoken and decided not to masturbate because she was still shaken with what had happened the night before. As she recounted in horror all of the things that she had done while hypnotized – things she had done with her receptionist, no less – she simply decided that bringing herself to orgasm following an erotic dream about the hypnotist just wasn't a good idea. She needed to regain control of her desires, she told herself, so she refused to touch her aching sex.

As the day wore on, her arousal became a growing distraction. Doing her best to ignore it, she had called some of her friends and invited them to join her for dinner at a nice restaurant. She had done her best to enjoy her friend's company, but the whole time she felt the pulsing arousal in her sex, and was constantly afraid that her erect nipples would be visible from underneath her blouse. Her friends commented more than once on how distracted she seemed, forcing her to explain, not untruthfully, that she had been out late at her receptionist's birthday party, and was still a bit worn out.

When she got home, she quickly decided that she had put it off enough – that resisting the urge to masturbate the entire day was an adequate demonstration of her own control. She practically raced into her bedroom, ripping off her clothes and leaving them in a pile on the floor before shutting off the lights and climbing into bed.

As soon as she felt the sheets under naked body she began to touch herself. Putting two fingers of one hand into her mouth, she swirled her tongue around, getting them nice and wet before removing them and lowering them to her open, red-hot sex. With the other she began to fondle her breasts, alternating between grasping the whole breast with her palm and squeezing, and pinching the nipples, drawing them out and making them even more erect than they already were.

The sensations of pleasure quickly engulfed her. The pent up feelings of the day spurred her on, and soon her fingers were stroking her sex frantically, bringing her closer and closer to orgasm. Eventually, the sensations became so intense that Penny felt as though she were losing herself – as though her capacity for conscious thought was leaving her.

For that reason, she didn't remember exactly when she slipped into sleep, but she knew, beyond any doubt, that it had happened before her climax had managed to take her. Instead, she simply dreamed ... dreamed of Mistress, dreamed of arousal, dreamed of denial.

Sunday had been very similar. When she awoke, she could feel her arousal flooding her body, but wasn't able to masturbate because she knew she had to get busy cleaning the apartment in preparation for an important week at work. She saw her clothes from the day before strewn all over the floor and immediately felt that she needed to pick them up – after all, she liked to her keep place very neat and ordered.

As she worked through her chores, she often thought of simply slipping into bed for a moment and giving herself the earth-shattering climax that she knew awaited her. But each time she decided to wait. In the end, she told herself, waiting would make it that much sweeter when she finally did get herself off. She began to think dreamily of the night time – she would deny herself until she went to bed and then, when she did ... she shuddered violently every time she imagined what awaited her.

When the time for bed finally did arrive, she once again climbed onto the sheets completely naked. Once again she began masturbating her sex and fondling her breasts. Once again, her lust overwhelmed her. Once again, she fell asleep without release.

Once again, she had dreamed of her Mistress – and of her Mistress's control.

Penny knew that these days of erotic denial had brought her to such a fever pitch that with only a few short strokes of her sex she could reach climax. But, she realized, she needed to get to work early. Her company had arranged for a meeting with several local businesses next week, and the top executives had entrusted her with the responsibility of presenting their marketing strategies to these local businesses. Penny had to spend this week preparing, and it would take a lot of work to be ready. And besides, she needed to get to work a bit early so that she could take the time to talk to Sandy about what had happened when they were both hypnotized.

"No," she thought to herself, "I don't have time this morning to bring myself off." With a groan of frustration she pulled herself out of bed and made her way to the shower. While showering her arousal continued to distract her. As she washed herself, her hands kept brushing over her nipples, sending a deep jolt straight to her sex. Her skin was so sensitive that just the act of soaping and rinsing was driving her wild.

Still, she knew she had to stay focused and get ready for work. When she had finished in the shower, she toweled off, doing her best to be as gentle as possible with the most erotic areas of her body for fear that stimulating them too much would tempt her back to her bed. Then she applied light make-up and dressed for the day – once again feeling a shock every time her clothes stimulated her sensitive nipples.