A whimper of pleasure… a smouldering scream of longing. Every ounce of her despair, her sexual torment, resonates throughout the room, sounds which never penetrate through the mystically sound-proofed room.
Her hips remain held up by an unseen yet powerful grasp, keeping her so vulnerably on her front, completely exposed. Any time she moves her hands anywhere below her neckline, they are quickly pulled back up. She cannot see her tormentors, nor can she hear them, every plea and scream seems to fall on deaf ears as they continue to manhandle her like a doll. No matter how much she tries in vain to free herself, to move away, they hold her steady in the position they delight in, leaving her to simply rock her hips in dire need.
It feels like hours have passed, yet they show no signs of stopping. Over and over she is brought to the brink of orgasm by the merciless forces around her, showing no sympathy as she constantly begs to be made to come. At first she had tried to fight the ghostly advances, yet it took them little time to strip her, to ravish her, leaving her with solely the animalistic need brought to the surface.
Countless touches linger on her exposed flower, teasing her to the edge before the sensation of hundreds of tiny tongues encasing her peeled back, exposed clitoris makes her scream. Hundreds of flickers to her throbbing, aching jewel keeps her on the edge for longer than even the cruellest of fantasies could imagine.
No matter how much she screams out for the merciful release of orgasm, or how many tears of pleasure soaked agony line her flushed red cheeks, they do not relent. While they continue to edge her over and over, they are not gentle; sucking her clitoris so hard, exploring her sex so deeply, yet no matter how roughly they feast on her, they always keep her teetering on the brink.
Whether bringing her to the closest possible peak of climax repeatedly without rest, or holding her on the edge for longer than humanly possible, they never change their pattern or slow down, keeping her juices running down her thighs and dripping onto the bed.
Even through the sensations neither her mind nor body can comprehend or handle, the sweet relief of passing out is not granted. While she cries out, screams, begs and writhes her sweat coated body, they continue unhindered, not allowing for the inferno to ever dwindle.
This hell will be endured for as long as the entities wish, and they are in no rush. They have all the time in the world to deliver their sweet anguish… the anguish of being tortured by silent, invisible entities which cannot be touched nor pleaded with.
They have merely just begun.
Content for the submission created by: PleasureTorture