No, it might be a test

You can not be seen to be slacking in your efforts to tease your girlfriend to the very brink of orgasm, but you dearly hope she will be able to endure the torment without succumbing to temptation, not because it will rob you of your own chance to climax, but because this all seems just too easy, too merciful. A sneaking suspicion has taken root in your mind that asking to take your landlord's insidious deal will be considered proof that Diana lacks self control and far from granting her the relief she craves, it will be the excuse that justifies continuing to deny you both indefinitely.

If only the thought did not make you quite so wet.

You continue to run your tongue in circles between your lover's sodden nether lips and around her protruding, aching clitoris. Above you, she lets out a sob, pelvic muscles clenching as she battles her body's nearly overwhelming urge to simply release the tension and frustration that has built up over the past three months. You lap at her sex relentlessly, pushing her ever closer to failure. She would no doubt love to lift her crotch from your face for even a moment's respite, but doing so would definitely prove her lack of control, so all she can do is suffer and try to endure.

The passage of time seems to slow to a crawl, although it must be far worse for your girlfriend. Even after three months of practice, your tongue is starting to cramp with exhaustion when you hear your landlord and his family returning to your bedroom. You rejoice prematurely, because for an interminable period, he says nothing at all, content merely to watch his other tenant writhing with desire, her beautiful breasts heaving as she pants for breath, perspiration beading on her flushed skin.

"Stop," he finally instructs, while Diana quivers on the peak of a particularly intense edge. It is such a relief that the constant stream of tears leaking from her eyes turns into a flood, although to an outsider, it might seem she is sobbing with despair.

"I am sorry you have chosen to reject our very fair and reasonable offer. We will see whether an additional three months of supervision helps Jenna attain the self control expected of a young lady. In the meantime, I think she has been neglected long enough. Georgina?"

"With pleasure, papa." With Diana still sitting on top of you, your vision is blocked, but you can hear the smile on the little minx's face when she receives this charge. "Dee, lie down beside Jen. Fingers and tongue to start with. We can add a dildo later."

It does not take much to have you whimpering while you ride the edge as intensely as your girlfriend. You fear she intends to have you spend another hour doing this, to mirror the time Diana was **** to spend teetering on the brink. The parents continue to watch, the wife occasionally tutting with disapproval, which may be why the daughter calls a halt, far later than you would have wished, but earlier than you expected. You are ordered to present yourselves, which you do, kneeling on the bed side by side, legs apart, back arched, chest and face pressed into the duvet.

George Collins approaches and begins exploring your swollen pudenda with his expert fingers. You quickly edge again, helpless beneath his maddening touch, but your willpower is strong enough to endure his examination without squirming or pulling away. You consciously deepen your breathing, silently reminding yourself that you can do this, that you have been doing exactly this for three mong months.

Finally, he moves on with a sigh, perhaps disappointed that he found no reason to punish you. Diana has suffered far more than you tonight, but she has also had a bit of a break, so you hope she will also manage to remain passive and not react to your landlord's probing.

This examination seems to go on for even longer, but eventually he relents and you hear Diana relax with a sigh of relief. However, you are not to escape quite that easily. Mr. Collins shows his sticky fingers to his wife, who tuts again and murmurs something you can not quite hear, but seems to be uncomplimentary.

"Fifteen lashes apiece, I think," he declaims. "Turn over."

You both obey, offering your sopping clefts to his cruel tawse. Fifteen lashes to such a sensitive area is an intense punishment, but weirdly your arousal protects you from the worst of the pain, whilst the pain helps bring your raging libido back under control. You doubt your girlfriend appreciates the whipping quite as much as you do, but she also endures, thanking your tormentor with equal fervour. Inevitably, there follows a further intimate examination, then your landlord pronounces himself satisfied.

Mrs. Collins firmly orders you both to stay put while the family lets itself out, but you do at least manage to say goodbye politely. When you hear the door shut, you roll to face your girlfriend and hold her close in a gentle embrace. She lays her head on your shoulder and finally allows the wracking sobs that she has been suppressing to escape.

"We're never going to cum, are we?" She whispers the question into your ear between sobs.

"No," you whisper back, stroking her hair consolingly. "Not until we move."

Later that night, you lie awake, despite your exhaustion, unable to get that thought out of your head. Moving would let you escape this hell of your own making, or at least have a chance of doing so. That does not really seem fair to you. Eventually, you slip from the bed and get out the Rulebook. You know that writing rules whilst unbelievably horny is a terrible idea, but a few minutes later you have ensured that landlords respect any restrictions put in place by their predecessors. For good measure, you also ensure that requirements instigated before a girl turns thirty six do not end automatically upon reaching that age.

Satisfied with your work, you crawl back into bed, sex throbbing at the prospect that your orgasms will never again be your own.