The ghost outfit that Linda had worn for the Halloween party had long been removed, yet she’d have given anything for them to have stripped her of her lingerie by now.
It had been hours. Hours of being teased by the faintest of touches. Hours of the softest, most delicate touches along every inch of her body.
So many hands and fingertips tormented her for longer than she could comprehend. With the blindfold on, she remained trapped in her imagination while trying to focus on anything to enhance the sensations. No matter whether she tried to focus on each individual touch or picture the most sexual, graphic situation she could, it didn’t work. Nothing would help make the touches feel firmer or help bring her to the pinnacle she prayed for.
The ghostly hands that pressed to her body could only occasionally materialise enough to apply contact to Linda’s body, meaning that she was constantly needing more. Surrounded by these ghostly figures, Linda remained restrained on the table in this purgatory. Unable to touch herself and provide any relief, she was reliant on them to stimulate her as she writhed in longing. In this place, Linda was perpetually in a state of arousal, teetering on the cliff edge yet unable to ever be granted the chance to take a step closer.
Linda remained trapped in this ethereal prison like a ghost trapped in purgatory. Their touches never lingered enough to provide any relief. They constantly drove her to a maddening level of arousal. Yet, here, there was no change in one’s mental or physical state. Linda could remain here indefinitely and nothing would change.
Linda could not recall how long ago it was since she stopped even trying to scream out or pray, knowing that the ghosts that trailed their hands over her body like whispers to her skin would not or could not listen. It was as if these spectres were cursed to remain in this place just as she was. If only she could feel some contact directly against her achingly stiffened nipples or clitoris, something that would bring her closer to what she craved. Instead, the glancing touches faded in and out along her arms, legs and torso while teasing just over her mound; only the living would have been helpless against that inviting, plump, soft mound. She wondered if they were cursed to always gaze upon that gorgeous curve of sexuality but never be able to delight in it, to sink their fingers into it or delight in her fully naked body.
Even when Linda had tried to thrust her hips upwards and allow for more contact between her legs, the fingers seemed to vanish. Internally, she remained screaming for anything more than this void of limitless arousal.
In this place, time seemed to move differently. A year here may have only been a minute in the real world. Linda would wake up in her own world, in her bedroom, once her ordeal was over. However, a night in her own world would feel like an eternity in this place of erotic torment.
Content created by PleasureTorture