“No more… NO MORE!!! FUUUUCK. Please. M-Mercy. Please. PLEASE! I… mmmnnn… can’t take it… nnngggaaa… anymore. I’m… I’m… Oh God. OH GOD… Sooo… close… ffff- aaahhhh. I’M BEGGING YOU… PLEEEASE!”
Before witnessing the hell she is enduring, we must step back to see how it all started.
The Bipedal Responsive User-Centered Computer Model 3, known as Bruc3 for short. It was the greatest machine ever built, able to learn and respond to its user along with updating itself with information gathered from the internet constantly; a self-developing work of perfection on two metal legs.
She had bought one for the sole purpose of pleasuring herself, having struggled to ever climax through masturbation and finding that only powerful vibrators could get the job done, and even then, only rarely. The thought of a machine that could learn all about her not only as a fun companion after work but as a sex aid was a wonderful prospect. Many had sung its praises as being the ultimate in sex tech, something it had been intended for, though not as widely publicised.
Her first session with Bruc3 was incredible. Although he looked intimidating – a hulking colossus of wires and metal standing at 7 feet with a large glass done where a face would be, housing cameras and sensors – he was surprisingly gentle. He lifted her up by the waist, lifting her entirely off the ground. Straps suddenly wrapped around her thighs, pulling her hips onto his unexpectedly warm surface. She kept her hands resting on his enormous shoulders while something resembling a tongue teased along her pussy. The more she became aroused, the more it vibrated until it was joined by more tongue-like devices, all vibrating up and down her slit and over her clitoris. She’d never felt anything like it.
Continue reading Bruc3
Standing in front of the classroom, she took a moment to bask in the sea of eager faces and excited chatter. Her sharp, pointed teeth shone back at some of the students who were watching her in anticipation to begin.
Just like everyone in the classroom, she was entirely naked. Amongst her kind, she did not need to try and blend in or put on an act. She could sense the arousal from the male in particular to her right. She wondered if the rest of the class had picked up on his arousal, other than merely his throbbing erection that faced the classroom. The woman was also turned on, though her arousal was not as strong to the scent as the male, as is always the case with females. They tend to have a much easier time hiding their arousal, not just externally. The teacher could, however, sense that the female was looking at her shapely rear, though she was most likely just as transfixed by the long black tail that whipped left and right as much as she was checking out her ass.
Not a sound could be heard other than the deep breathing from the male and female who lay naked on a table at the front of the class. A sizzle of electric excitement rang through the room. Her dark-red wings spread out fully as she opened her arms and addressed the class again.
“Welcome. It is a pleasure to have so many of you joining us today. I promised I’d have live subjects for us to study. I have cast a spell to ensure they cannot make any noise yet. We’ve all heard the relentless pleas these humans bellow out when they are in our company. It grows tiresome. Maybe later, I’ll release them from the spell so that we can hear some of the sweeter sounds they make.”
The pair of humans, lying on the table completely naked and propped up by pillows behind their backs, could only look back at the sea of faces gazing at them, razor-sharp teeth gleaming in grins at their naked bodies.
Continue reading Seduction School
She wondered to herself, ‘Was it worth it?’
An eruption of pleasure. Twenty seconds of ecstasy. Her body was seizing, a sense of weightlessness, grounded only by the pulsating pleasure originating between her legs and spreading throughout every inch of her body. For that brief moment, Mia was no longer a solid being but a liquid entity unable to be contained. Only once the tide receded did she realise what she’d done and what was to come.
‘Was it worth it?’ – Seconds before Mia’s orgasm, and certainly during it and for a minute afterwards, she’d have said, ‘Yes!’
Now that Mia was suffering the consequences, ones that she had agreed to if she dared climax without permission, she’d argue that it wasn’t worth it. Not worth the need that coursed through her. Not worth the desperation that clouded her mind and sapped her body.
Continue reading Patience
every morsel so soft to the
Serene in such splendour;
tantalisingly within your clutch.
Arching peaks you
to caress, the drumbeat spills forth
and a gentle strum
Glancing touches hit you like
and liquid desire pulls you
In the midst of climax for which time itself slows.
Sensuality in all its form,
bathed in the fabric
it can scarcely adorn.
Content created by: PleasureTorture
Submission by: MaybeI1der
My full length novel (including bonus ‘sex scene only’ section) out now!
If they both knew how much they’d be internally screaming out with need for an orgasm, they would never have denied themselves throughout November. It seems foolish now to have passed on the opportunity to masturbate when these skilled hands tormented them beyond reason.
The man’s entire body was already tingling with anticipation when he had first arrived; his mind was too focused on the pleasure to come to pay much attention to the second massage table in the room. He was asked to undress and lie on his back. The moment he stripped and laid down, the masseuse instantly returned and began caressing his upper body. His lower body remained covered by a towel. Even though the masseuse’s warm, oil-coated hands massaged only his shoulders and chest, his length instantly began to stir. The month of abstinence – two months total without a full orgasm – meant that all he could think of was the masseuse’s hands reaching under to stroke his cock. Just thinking of her stroking him, sucking him and riding him instantly sent a surge through to his manhood. He wanted her to whisper to him that she was going to fuck him, to impale herself on him, that knowing how desperate to come he was made her wet just thinking about, and how it aroused her to fuck men in this state.
Instead of fulfilling his fantasies right away, the masseuse simply continued to massage him wordlessly. Even the previous sexual audio, which filled the room with moans and cries of ecstasy, was absent.
Just as he began to wonder why things were so different and why the masseuse’s previous accomplice wasn’t present, another person entered the room, followed by the accomplice.
Continue reading The Masseuse (Part III)
Another person’s fingertips trailing over her body is all she craved. She’d happily give up a month of masturbation in order to feel the sensations she had enjoyed at the massage parlour. The prospect of submitting to the stimulation in that way, with every touch and every caress focused solely on her, was too enticing to pass up.
The ruined orgasm played on her mind throughout November. For the first couple of weeks, she focused on the frustration, how her pussy convulsed in longing for so much more and how the sense of emptiness that the ruined orgasm brought remained with her. She wanted those cruel fingertips back where they were, teasing her clitoris and penetrating her intensely, squeezing around them as if it were her body pleading for them not to stop fucking her.
For the last couple of weeks in November, she instead focused on the joy that even the ruined orgasm brought. The sensation of pleasure lifted to the surface, and the jolts of ecstasy that slipped through the cracks of frustration.
Continue reading The Masseuse (Her November)
The Masseuse and The Masseuse Part II
One month, that’s all it would be. He thought it would be difficult, he never expected it would be hellish.
It would have been so much easier, he thought, if his last orgasm was at least fulfilling, at least truly enjoyable. Instead, the masseuse had ended with a ruined orgasm, dashing hopes of a pleasurable climax before sending him away with the instruction to go a month of denial before returning. All he needed to do was get through November, and finally he assumed he’d get the orgasmic release he needed.
He longed for the massage table, to feel the masseuse and her apprentice’s warm, feminine hands caress his naked body. It was extremely difficult to abstain from touching himself at night when that was all he could picture. The way their hands coated him all over, how soft their palms felt against his throbbing member, how teasing their fingertips were each time it twitched.
Even work was difficult; as the days turned into weeks, it became harder to think about anything other than sex. Every titillating image or suggestive comment turned his mind to mush. It was as if, within the first week, he realised just how much free time he had, even at work, free time which led to more fantasies churning in his mind. While the urge to masturbate at night wasn’t as strong as expected, the urge to watch porn was greater than ever. He avoided it to ensure he wouldn’t be tempted. He wanted to last the entire month.
Continue reading The Masseuse (His November)
If she knew how much she’d be internally screaming out with need for an orgasm, she’d have never denied herself for so long.
She had often enjoyed the sensuality of her monthly full-body massage. While she always felt that her masseuse lingered on her inner thighs more than necessary, there was nothing overtly sexual about the experience. What was apparent, however, was that after every massage, she had a great need to masturbate once she returned home. She always abstained from playing with herself for a few days before her massage, enjoying the heightened sensitivity and where her imagination led her following the massage. This time she had decided to test herself and abstain for the entire month. Having not touched herself intimately between her last massage and this one, she was already in a hyper-sexual state of mind before even lying down on the table.
Covered in only a towel, she was aware of how little her body was concealed from the two women who walked into the room. The masseuse and her female accomplice -introduced as a trainee – began massaging her back. The second woman’s wonderfully soft, warm hands ran across her shoulders while the masseuse focused on her legs. Folding the towel down inch by inch, the trainee was free to press along more of her back. It would have had her imagination on fire to have been focusing on how this newcomer’s fingertips were grazing so close to the sides of her breasts, squished against the padded table. What instead drew her attention was how the masseuse’s hands were gliding up her legs so brazenly. The masseuse’s hands slid from feet to ankles to upper thighs and buttocks in one direct motion, instantly pushing the towel up so that it barely concealed her intimacy. A mixture of shyness and arousal coursed through the silent woman. Feeling a little cool air between her legs, she closed them, knowing that the masseuse positioned at the foot of the massage table would be able to sneak a peek at her privacy if so inclined. She was unable to conceal a gasp as the masseuse suddenly gripped her ankles and pulled her legs back apart.
Continue reading The Masseuse (Part II)
If he knew how much he’d be internally screaming out with need for an orgasm, he’d have never denied himself for so long.
Having abstained from masturbation, he had decided to book a massage to unwind with his long-time masseuse, though never had he expected it to become so sensual. She would massage his body with the most tender touches, her hands so attentive as they caressed his back, arms and shoulders before moving to his legs. When she had done this before, there was only the slightest hint of sexuality, the lightest touch a little closer under the towel than he’d expected. This time, however, it was as if she knew that he had abstained for weeks and wanted him to suffer.
He wasn’t surprised when he turned up and found the masseuse with a female accomplice; often, the pair massaged him together. What did surprise him, however, was that the trainee focused only on his upper body while his masseuse concentrated only on his lower body. It was clear right from the beginning that she intended to make life as difficult as possible, to set his imagination alight. Instantly she brushed her hands up under the towel, sweeping along his buttocks, then his inner thighs, just enough to have his mind’s eye focused on his manhood which she was so close to. Her hands crept further and further upwards with every movement as she stroked along his upper legs.
Continue reading The Masseuse