Midnight Caress

Whispers of eroticism twisting through the night air; like a petal entwined in breeze, you writhe, lost in the mystical passions that threaten to consume you.

Neither asleep nor truly awake, you feel an embrace like no other, as if the atmosphere itself is lovingly caressing your body, keeping you held in its place. Not being fully awake, fear does not cloud the enchantment of sensuality your body possesses. The first ripples of movement around your body have it curious for more, as if the slightest sense of activity in the air sets your nerves alight.

The caressing movement of the sheets presses over your body as if they were the hands of a thousand masseurs exploring the contours of your female frame. Your body seems to burn with a need, yet there is no way of ever knowing whether time has passed in seconds or hours – every touch upon your body seems to linger for an eternity.

The embrace of the entity against your chest sends a warm surge down to your toes. Instinctively, your hands press to the sheets, clasping onto nothing but cotton yet still feeling as if all the hands in the world were focused on your body.

As your skin is exposed, the air itself seems to kiss every morsel of you, as if the sensual whispers were showing their appreciation. You writhe in agonised ecstasy as your breasts are caressed once again, every fibre of your sexuality being enticed effortlessly. The sheets embrace you ceaselessly, like a sea of pleasure washing over you, threatening to drown you. Unlike fingers, the motions wreaking havoc around your body feel like countless threads of silk twining around your skin.

The movements lead between your thighs, making your internal, subconscious voice cry out in bliss. The sheet envelops you, a mass of pleasure encasing you as you rock uncontrollably, feeling like the sensation of a hundred silky brushes rolling along the deepest sensitivities of your sex, all under the firm grasp of the sheet rocking against your womanhood.

You will not awake from this abyss of pleasure until the desires of the night are through with you; passing out, screaming out, shielding yourself – these are options beyond your control. You are merely the passenger. They shall drive you to the greatest heights of pleasure.

Without control, without respite, you moan into the eternity of the night.

Content created by: PleasureTorture

Image source from: The Toy Box

Your Dreams: Back On The Table

Even when you wake up, the longing and sexual desire wrought upon you by those dreams continues to course throughout.

Over the day, you think back to those moments, looking up and seeing them surrounding you, working you relentlessly. The hell of being forced to orgasm so cruelly without the possibility of rest, without the mercy of even being able to succumb to unconsciousness still fresh in your mind. The way they seemed to take such enjoyment from your screams, such pleasure from keeping your pussy juices dripping constantly, made you shiver. 

You can’t decide which you feel more of, anticipation or fear… knowing what may be happening all over again once you go back to sleep. The memory of the women caressing you, imprisoning you with pure lust and desire, mingles with the thoughts of how much they had tormented you. No matter how much you cried out from the orgasms, how much your clitoris throbbed achingly as it was licked by the flames of overstimulation, they didn’t stop for a second.

In the dream world, the merciless torment they put you through went on for hours. The thought of enduring it all over again arouses and terrifies you in equal measure. Each time you close your eyes, you see them all over again, how they groped and pinched and fingerfucked you, constantly exploring your overstimulated body. As the night draws on, you get sleepier and sleepier, closer to feeling their embrace once again. No matter whether you consider it a dream or a nightmare, you are powerless to prevent it; you will return to them.

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Your Dreams: On The Table

Your dreams have been so unusual and erotic lately, yet this was the most vivid and intense you have ever had. That sensation of being helpless and surrounded that has often turned you on seemed to merge with the desire to be manhandled and dominated by other women.

The dream of being in an operating theatre, yet simply being there to be pleasured relentlessly, had you dripping throughout the night. No matter how much they made you come, how intensely your body strained as they kept rubbing and fingering your overstimulated pussy, you couldn’t seem to wake up; it simply would not stop. Kept in this dream world, you couldn’t pass out or become dehydrated. You simply had to endure the non-stop assault of orgasm after orgasm. With your pussy juices coating the table and the bed you were asleep in, and with your entire body shaking and convulsing in the throes of constant orgasms, no matter how you tried to close your legs and rest, they kept spreading you open and starting all over again.

Yet even when you do finally wake up, will it all simply end there?

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Silk Garment

Wherever they had come from, those fetching panties that she had discovered in her drawer were going to inflict a night of passion upon her that she would never forget.

The silky softness of that tight little piece of fabric made her hunger for the touches against her sensuous mound; never in her most erotic dreams could she imagine that those panties would embody something which hungered for her just as much.

From the moment she put them on, she longed to caress her sex. The cool silk seemed to enhance every sensation. After mere seconds it seemed as if every nerve ending in her body had focused its attention on just that one space between her legs. The deep longing grew and grew until simply the slippery stroke of a fingertip was not nearly enough. She had felt the joy of being teased plenty of times before, yet this longing was unlike anything else – as if every passing second added an hour’s worth of tantalisation.

She removed the lingerie hastily, unaware that its spell had long been cast upon her body the moment they were worn, the moment they encased her sensitive womanhood.

Completely naked and exposed, she still felt the familiar sensation of the cool, soft silkiness clinging to her sex, though all her attention was on the uncontrollable longing which burned between her legs. Her fingers magnetised towards it, yet instead of the fulfilling comfort of masturbation, they were stopped. As if they were being held back, she could not push her hands any further down. No matter how much she tried to slide her fingers down to quench the fire raging within her sex, she was left held so cruelly close. While the unendurable longing did not seem to die down, her pussy seemed to be throbbing with more need with each second.

The tingling seemed to increase to a burning need, until moments later it was like she was trapped in the vice of an impending orgasm that wouldn’t come. Still, her pussy was inexplicably out of reach. Suddenly her arms were pulled back and came to rest above her head, pinned in place as if they were being held tightly. Just as fast, her pussy was embraced by sensations she could not explain or comprehend. Even while her pussy was bare, she could feel the familiar sensation of the silky material embracing her. This sensation seemed to combine with the stimulation of being touched by the softest of fingertips, of being licked by the most precise tongue, of being nibbled by the most eager mouth.

She thought her engorged mound would explode with need as repeatedly she was brought so close to orgasm and held there before it backed off just enough to leave her hips thrusting for more. She wanted to touch herself, to touch anywhere, just to feel the soft curves of her heat-stricken body. Still, she remained held in place, tormented to a state of craving that she had never thought possible. The constant writhing of her hips did nothing to increase the formless yet ever-present and unyielding manipulations of her soft, delicate mound.

Finally, when she thought her consciousness could not stand any more of that tantalising torture, it happened. Her pussy felt like it had suddenly been devoured with pure stimulation, as if her entire sex were being sucked. Every tiny detail and sensitivity of that swollen mound seemed to be being latched onto by the air itself. After so much time spent in the hell of denial, the sudden avalanche of suction was a heaven of orgasmic bliss. Her orgasm seemed to never end – she didn’t want it to. All she cared about was the unparalleled pleasure that confined her to the bed. Wave after wave of orgasm was sucked from her. The mixture of such long denial and the longing brought about by the lingerie kept fuelling the orgasmic fire. As if reading her mind, the sucking stopped, ceasing just as the almost painfully intense orgasms started to cross the line of being unbearable.

Once she was able to move her arms, she knew it was over. All was still and quiet in the room. Finally able to catch her breath, as if her lungs were also finally her own now, she simply lay there motionless, recovering from the fiercest orgasms she had ever experienced.

As she lay there, she thought to herself that she may wait at least another week before putting those back on.

Content created by: PleasureTorture

Image source from: 18onlygirls

Tendrils

Waking in the brightly lit cell, she had no idea where she was or how she had come to be here. An alien abduction? Kidnapped by scientists? There was no telling. All she could recall was last being in her room masturbating, having brought herself to the edge multiple times before finally about to give in to her overflowing need. Suddenly, everything went black: then she was here, her body still glowing with the unfulfilled promise of release.

She was only half conscious of the surroundings, feeling lost in a hazy limbo, unable to even fully notice the mechanical tendrils that were wrapping themselves around her limbs. Only when the creeping tentacles crawled down within her underwear did she seem to regain herself, though it was too late to do anything about it; now, the unknown tendrils were trapped within the confines of the material and against her delicate sex. 

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“Oh, you thought that was it, that it was going to stop just because you passed out?”

Forced orgasms were all she’d written, all she’d requested. She’d come to wish that she’d added a stipulation for it to stop. Yet there would be no escape. Even her own screams and pleas were not granted the freedom to escape her lips. The only thing that would escape her were the hopes of any mercy. She would simply come, and come, and come again. 

Content created by: PleasureTorture

Image source from: Kink

Haunted House (Lily)

Forced orgasms” was all she had written, and it was what she’d receive. Once the haunted house had stolen Lily’s companions from her, she welcomed the presence of the strangers around her, all cloaked in black and leading her to the room. It was foreboding to see the mattress at the centre of the sinister-looking room, though she was thankful that it was warm and rather comfortable once they laid her down on it. She had resigned herself to the fate ahead as they restrained her to it and placed the ball gag in her mouth. 

“You will scream,” whispered one of the figures as the other left. At that, he removed the cloak and looked upon her body with a hunger in his eyes. She shied away from his gaze before he knelt beside her and began his exploration of her pleasure. 

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