Nod silently

You don't know which lesson she is referring to; either her demand for your silence, or the way she gave you an opportunity to ask for something more and you squandered it - however you don't feel like taking any chances.

Instead you nod meekly at Mommy and are rewarded with a brilliant smile.

"I know you have," She says, caressing your face lovingly. The feeling is nice.. soothing, but you are quickly distracted as she starts to sloooowly pump her hand up and down. Her grip is tight and every time her fingers run over your cock head the stimulation is almost too much, "You're such a good boy."

Maybe it's the words of praise, maybe it's the sudden doting attention, maybe it's the way gives a slight twist whenever she reaches your sensitive cock head, but what comes out of your mouth is not a manly sigh or throaty moan -- it is a **** whimper. You can't stop it, everything about this situation just feels so good.

"Oh my poor, sweet boy. Mommy knows exactly what you need." Her voice is so gentle and sweet, you can't help yourself but look up with hope clearly written all over your face. Mommy is looking down at you lovingly, as she with her right hand reaches up to slowly ease down her part of her dress. She times the action so each centimeter of tantalizing cleavage she reveals, is matched by a firm slow downward stroke. Finally she reaches the base of your cock at the same time her wonderfully round right breast drops free. You tense against the pleasure and your red dick throbs and trembles in her sure grasp.

Part of you - trained by the logics of porn - notices that she definitely has an implant. There is no way that tit could stay that firm, that round, practically bolted on at her age. The same part of you expected her to just lower her top to give you some visual stimulation, but of course not. As she lowers her dark nipple towards you face, you realize that this is Mommy and you are her Good Boy and she only needs one breast free to give you what your need.

When her nipple brushes against your lips a shudder runs up your spine. Mommy has started again with the slow, deliberate strokes. Adding occasional twists, occasional variations of tightness as you latch unto her breast and starts suckling. There is is no milk, the only thing you get out of this exercise is the delicious humiliation and whatever slow, torturous gratification she deems to award you.

Another poetry reading has started, this time it is Ms. O'Briain who has brought a classical poem by Sappho, you think she said. Mommy's attention is back on her friends, but she is still petting your **** dick, so you don't mind.

"Aphrodite, subtle of soul and deathless,
Daughter of God, weaver of wiles, I pray thee
Neither with care, dread Mistress, nor with anguish,
Slay thou my spirit!"

Even though Mommy's handjob is very gentle and slow, the stimulation is starting to build up. You nuzzle into her breast and her right hand tangles in your hair.

"But in pity hasten, come now if ever
From afar of old when my voice implored thee,
Thou hast deigned to listen, leaving the golden
House of thy father"

Even though your mouth is on Mommy's nipple, the pleasure that is growing this a tickling warmth from your crotch and spreading all the way to your extremities, is too great that you can stay quiet. You try to hide your moans at first, but when Mommy just caresses your hair you figure that she doesn't mind.

"With thy chariot yoked; and with doves that drew thee,
Fair and fleet around the dark earth from heaven,
Dipping vibrant wings down he azure distance,
Through the mid-ether;"

Mommy pours a generous amount oil over her still stroking hand, dripping down her fingers and completely soaking your crotch. The pleasure intensifies. Every breath from your suckling mouth is a gasp, a moan, a groan, a whine. You try to keep under enough control that you don't disturb Ms. O'Briain. Mommy wouldn't want that.

"Very swift they came; and thou, gracious Vision,
Leaned with face that smiled in immortal beauty,
Leaned to me and asked, "What misfortune threatened?
Why I had called thee?"

You break free from the facsimile of breastfeeding, so throw a gazed look around the room. By the sofa you see Ms. O'Briain, standing with her notes her tightly in her hands. She appears to be panting, stealing glances your direction. Rasna doesn't bother hiding it; her eyes are eating your wanton display up, her fingers absentmindedly playing with the seam on her inner thigh. Camilla is less restrained, her hand is shoved down her pants as she greedily watches you. Behind the squishing of Mommy's handjob, you think you hear her rhythmic beating of her cunt. Everyone in the room is watching you be a good boy for Mommy; the only one not obviously affected is Mrs. Andersson.

"What my frenzied heart craved in utter yearning,
Whom its wild desire would persuade to passion?
What disdainful charms, madly worshipped, slight thee?
Who wrongs thee, Sappho?"

Mommy's hand in your hair grows more strict, and your face is firmly pushes back to her breast where you eagerly start suckling again. You hear Mommy sigh above you, and her hand is starting to speed up. No fast, far from it, but no longer the tortuously slow pace. As you feel your orgasm building, Mommy doesn't slow down. Instead she loosens her grasp; suddenly her fingers a sliding frictionlessly up and down your shaft, as the promising high of an orgasm comes and passes unfulfilled.

"She that fain would fly, she shall quickly follow,
She that now rejects, yet with gifts shall woo thee,
She that heeds thee not, soon shall love to madness,
Love thee, the loth one!"

Three more times she brings you to the edge. It is not an abrupt process; she never outright stops, but she almost seems slow or loosen, reduce the number of fingers she uses or which part of your shaft she stimulates. The feeling is paradoxically both maddening - because you're never allowed to reach the orgasm your body craves - and oddly.. relaxing - because you can just lay back and let the waves of pleasure ebb and flow.

"Come to me now thus, Goddess, and release me
From distress and pain; and all my distracted
Heart would seek, do thou, once again fulfilling,
Still be my ally!"

Finally it seems she has taken pity on you. Her pace quickens, her expression - what little you can see past her voluptuous breast - is eager. Pleasure builds and builds and just as the poem finishes, expertly timed, she freezes completely. Just as you're about to come.

"What about you, baby?" Mommy asks gently, "Do you require release from your distress and pain as well.. Or can you go on? You can tell Mommy."