It Was Always Your Choice
You see, your brand new chastity belt arrived in the mail today. I imagine it seems like so long ago since you first ordered it: since your teasing princess strapped you to the chair, brought you to the brink again and again for three hours and then gave you the option of locking that cock away, all for the price of an orgasm. I don't think you'll forget that day easily. I could tell by your expression it was the best orgasm of your life.
Still, I suppose if you hadn't agreed to it you could have slunk off to your bedroom and yanked that penis of yours over the edge. I couldn't stop you from being naughty if you wanted to be - but it really was a matter of what you wanted, now wasn't it, pet? You're certainly capable of shooting your load whenever you choose to do so, but it just never has the same fire as when I order you to. You let me deny you because the humiliation is arousing to you, because the longer you hold off the better that orgasm is. Lately, you've started to realize that it's not even the orgasm that matters to you as much as the tease, the ecstasy of the edge, the sharp clarity of focus you have on my body when you've not been released in days, weeks on end.