GIFs/Caption – PleasureTorture

The Heroine Outfit

‘During the Halloween season, we advise extreme caution. There have been multiple reports of supernatural entities targeting victim based on their costume choices.’

Alicia wished she’d heeded the warnings. Instead, she ignored them, heading to the Halloween costume party dressed as a superheroine. On her way back from the party, she had lost consciousness and awoke to find herself trapped in the clutches of the VibroVolt gang as they had introduced themselves. They ignored her no matter how much she told them she had no idea who they were and that she had only been attending a costume party.

All they told her was that they would wreak havoc upon the city and intended to send a message to any other heroes that dared try to cross them. Before Alicia could question her captors or even contemplate whether she was merely trapped in some crazed fever dream, their hands made her gasp.

You play with yourself at the thought of what those warnings could mean – touching and teasing while thinking of being dressed in that skin-tight outfit. Even if nothing came of the warnings – if no entity apprehended you in order to sexually torment you just like in your fantasies – the thought of what others would want to do to you arouses you.

You imagine the material of your costume clinging so tightly against your body, wondering whether you’ll wear anything under it. You picture how it will look to others, seeing those delicate curves hugged by the material like a second skin. You know that they’d be looking at you, wanting to touch you, knowing that against the material, you’d feel their fingertips almost the same way against the outfit as you feel right now.

There are so many scenarios you could picture yourself in as you bring yourself to climax. Being apprehended by whatever the warnings are about, or perhaps feeling the touch of another, having seduced someone at the Halloween party. Or perhaps, simply returning to your bed afterwards and masturbating while in the outfit. Every situation turns you on; you want to spend the whole night vividly imagining each of them. Yet, with how sensitive and aroused you are, it won’t take long until you can’t contain the pleasure any more.

The strength of your fantasies will always dictate the strength of your orgasm.

“Sir! As the footage shows, the faction had caught and imprisoned our agent three days ago. Communication with her had ceased at approximately 1600 hours. The footage we have been receiving indicates that they have been continuing their interrogations as recently as ten minutes ago today. The footage has been coming in every thirty minutes. There seem to be thirty-minute intervals every ninety minutes, indicating breaks in their administration of torture, before they begin once again.”

“At what time did they begin torturing her?”

“When they captured her three days ago, the video footage we received indicates they began at 1700 hours, sir.

Currently, we are unable to pinpoint their location and have no further information.”

“Damn it. She’s truly on her own. God, have mercy on her. Has there been any change in the footage throughout the ordeal?”

“No, Sir. The same two women have been continuously tormenting our agent. It has been the same continuous process. They have been using vibrators to bring our agent to the edge of orgasm repeatedly, stopping every time she has been close. They appear to take it in turns; as soon as one of them has brought our agent to the edge of orgasm, they switch around.

Earlier footage shows our agent screaming out for us to find her. As the footage continued, it changed from her screaming for us to screaming out for anyone to help her to then screaming out for mercy from the assailants. However, nothing had changed their pattern or methods of torture throughout the three days.”

“What pattern?”

I know how it feels, being in your position, being restrained and helpless. How it lets you focus on the overwhelming sensations between your legs, that build-up which consumes you, knowing that release in every sense is at my discretion.

I understand you want to see me riding you, yet I also know that the fantasy in your mind adds another layer of torment, imagining the smile as I look down and see the utter desperation your mouth tries to convey.

I know that you want me to be as cruel as possible, to ensure that every motion of my body feels destined to prolong your pleasure until you feel like mercy is beyond reach, until you feel like even begging me would simply elicit laughter, the kind of laughter that sends a shiver of erotic longing through your spine.

What I don’t understand, however, is just how it feels to need to thrust upwards, to feel several inches of your body literally throbbing and pulsating with the need to drive deeper. I can’t comprehend the tightness and yearning within those balls, that external, gorgeous masculinity, to need to release the pent-up tide of orgasm. I don’t know how it feels to have this heat, this softness, this wetness, clenching around those aching inches slip up and down while fighting to hold back that white-hot gush.

That’s what makes it so much more erotic. I can imagine and understand what you feel, but I don’t truly know how your cock feels right now – yet I’m still going to prolong that sensual agony for as long as possible. That’s what keeps my body burning with arousal and what keeps me coming again and again, knowing that my joy is what makes your cock suffer just that little bit more.

…And Repeat

…And again, you moan in need. That familiar, euphoric surge emanates from between your legs through your very core as the vibrator once again presses to you. The pleasure becomes addictive, constantly circulating as you fantasise about every time before, about how intense it had been.

The same scenarios in your imagination present themselves, yet they become a little more intense than last. The gentle touches become firmer caresses, and the soft strokes become harder pinches.

The look of the device itself adds to the tremors within you. It is so sleek yet powerful, designed solely to press against your intimacy and bring you to the heights of human pleasure. Made to elicit the most extreme joy and ensure you absolutely scream out in ecstasy. You press it harder to yourself, the pulsating vibrations drilling deeper. You remember how intense it was last time. As your hips buck and your legs shake, you wonder if this will be the same or even more extreme.

Good girl. Take it until those hips are shuddering from the ecstasy.

It doesn’t matter whether you come. All that matters is that you adore every second of having me explore you.

We’ll sit outside, and I’ll slather you with oil. I’ll strip you and let you bask in being so exposed while out in nature.

I’ll massage you, I’ll expose you, I’ll explore you.

As I press my fingers up against that firmer little patch inside you, pushing upward and rubbing it directly, I don’t care whether you squirt. I just want you to let yourself go and give in to the sensations wreaking havoc within you.

I know that what makes you shiver in pleasure the most is that, under the sunlight, with me exploring you so intimately, as I delve so deeply, there is absolutely nothing left to hide. Exposed in every way.

It’s all about wanting to pleasure you until there is no more pleasure left for you to take.

Ruined

She found herself in hell. It was beyond torture at this point. No matter how much she cried and begged and screamed, he wouldn’t give her what she needed. What should have been a heavenly sensation was constantly being turned into a hellish ordeal as the convulsion of orgasm tore through her without the warmth of fulfilment. Again and again, ruined orgasms were thrust upon her.

Even when she wasn’t tied up, she didn’t try to fight back at first. She thought she might have been able to handle it better. She also hadn’t expected him to continue doing it to her.

She hoped that soon enough, the warmth of her pussy and the way it softly enveloped his cock would entice him to stay inside and continue thrusting. She soon prayed that the eroticism of her movements and the way that she moaned and squealed as she came would make him falter. He didn’t.

Every time he thrust inside and brought her to the pinnacle, he stopped right as she came, letting his cock slide out, watching as she shivered and winced, the scald of a ruined orgasm wreaking havoc on her. It left nothing but a dull ache and a need for something so much more. He fucked her to that point repeatedly and continued to stop, ensuring she hit that brick wall again and again.

Even as she tried to grind against him, to ensure he felt how wonderful it would be to remain inside her, he still withdrew, leaving her to rub helplessly against his tip. It did nothing to quell the need. Her pussy felt as if it were constantly convulsing in desperation for more penetration, for more friction, for anything.

Her body hurt with longing, her pussy swollen, a raw, red wound of unfathomable sensations. When he gripped her wrists and fitted those familiar cuffs on the headboard to them, he reminded her.

“Don’t forget… this is what you wanted. Isn’t it? You couldn’t handle the forced orgasms last time we played. You were begging me not to make you come any more. You said to me, ‘Please don’t make me come more. I can’t stand it.’ Well, this time, I won’t make you endure forced orgasms. You kept begging me to stop fucking you. You kept crying when I continued to thrust inside your gorgeous pussy while you were coming, screaming out that it was too intense for you.”

She’d have given anything to feel his cock continue to thrust while she hit her orgasm. Even if he kept going when it was too sensitive, it would have been better than this.

Each time he withdrew, he simply watched as her hips rocked and pushed up for more, her body writhing in frustration. She pulled desperately against the cuffs and wept in her ruined orgasm agony. It didn’t stop anything.

Repeatedly he kept fucking her and stopping before admiring his work, her torment. He was so aroused watching the display. It was difficult not to continue feeling her silky soft walls clenching around his manhood and to have to pull out even as he was nearing his moment. He gladly suffered. The more torment he inflicted, the more she moaned and cried out, the more he pulsed and throbbed. It made it even worse for her each time, having to feel how swollen and stiff he was as he entered her each time.

She would have preferred to have been denied than endure this. To have her orgasms ruined every single time, repeatedly and in succession, without mercy, was unbearable. Pleasure being used as a cruel torture. It was worse to see the enjoyment on his face that her suffering brought him – such a sadistic delight in constantly ruining her orgasms.

Relentlessly, what should have been a gush of heat and relief, a tight ball erupting and unravelling, was replaced with an emptiness that left the ball still tightly wound. An electric shock of sensation with no outlet, no spiral of bliss, just sensation without form. Pleasure without relief.

No matter how often she fantasised about this scenario, it never made it easier to endure. Soon enough, her pussy would become too desensitised to handle any more. She wasn’t expecting, however, that when this did occur, he’d simply go down on her and work her clitoris with his mouth. Repeatedly he’d suck her clitoris and stop every time her hips thrust upwards in climax. Not once, even from oral, would she receive the mercy of a full orgasm. It would continue until she could not come any more.

Maybe next time, he’d let her choose: forced orgasms or ruined orgasms. Right now, he knew she’d choose anything other than another ruined orgasm… if only she had a choice.

Anticipation: that tantalising, delicate tension in the air, the heartbeat fluttering in every motion, the prickling heat that first marks the inferno to soon engulf.

Anticipation is sexuality at its most primal, the moments before the fantasy of imagination meets the potency of reality.

A whisper of what could be. Until you finally feel its touch.

When you’re between my thighs, no matter how much I shiver, shake and clench, no matter how tightly I squeeze your head or how hard my hands push against you, do not stop doing exactly what you are doing to me.

It isn’t just the actions themselves that make me melt; it’s looking down and seeing you so entirely absorbed in what you’re doing, so entirely absorbed in my pleasure, that makes me never want to try and stop you, no matter how intense it becomes.