"When you are pulling against the restraints… when your back is arched and your hips are writhing… when your mouth is open in a silent scream of tortured rapture… you will know that my work has begun".
The feeling of the silk against your wrists sends a surge of warmth along every inch of your skin; the creamy, weightless softness letting you know that nothing you feel after this moment will be in your own hands. The eroticism of such a thought drifts directly between your thighs – you tremble in anticipation.
You are told not to speak, told simply to lose yourself in the experience. The blindfold further locks you inside yourself, keeping you fantasising about the sensations, amplifying every light touch on your skin. The delicate contact across your cleavage and across your nipples makes your skin tingle.
She loves the way the little spasms in your stomach seem to follow the slight touches of her tongue. When she repeats this little pattern over and over again, you realise that she is going to take her time with you no matter how much your pussy is dripping with anticipation. It is so rare that she gets you in such a position as this, with you completely at her mercy; this is a situation to savour. You can rock your hips and moan sweetly as much as you want, nothing will rush her.
She made me promise not to join in. To be honest, simply being able to watch and film this is privilege enough. Yet still she told me not to interrupt, particularly when you are screaming out with the need to come. I can see the way she loves it when your hips start to rotate as she brings you close to orgasm. I didn’t expect her to stop so abruptly just as you were about to come, yet there is something so intoxicating about seeing her go through the cycle again and again.
It certainly is getting harder to do nothing and just watch you being teased like this. Still I carry on filming, realising why she said we’d need a lot of space on the camera’s SD card… she really is taking her time with you.
She had no idea where she was going, yet she could not help but smile in anticipation.
Once the blindfold was off, she instinctively tried to cover herself up. The moment he whispered, “they are here to enjoy you just as much as I will,” she let out a sigh of longing and began to touch herself, giving into her desire to be seen, to be lusted after.
“Go ahead, try and move. I want you to suffer. I can see you want to move so bad, as if it would give you any relief at all, maybe you wouldn’t feel so helpless. The fact is, you ARE helpless, there is absolutely no escape for you, my dear. Go ahead, scream out again, scream for me to let you come.”
“I said fucking scream. Tell me who your body belongs to, then maybe I’ll give this soaking wet pussy just what it craves. Look me in the eyes and listen; it’s going to hurt by the time I’m done. It’s going to be so intense that you will want to pass out… but you won’t, you will take everything I give. Now… beg for it!”
“Good girl, keep going. Don’t you dare stop coming, you are my orgasm doll, my little toy. No I won’t move it off of your clitoris, I know just how sensitive your pussy is. Fucking come for me hard!”
“No, I will not stop. You were begging for this orgasm, now you are begging for it to stop? Look at me when I’m talking to you… If you ask me one more time to stop I’m going to turn it on high. Now… come again.”
A weekend all to herself, finally the chance to try out the PleasureTorture outcall service had presented itself. Having made the call and booked for the entire weekend, she started having second thoughts, though by this time, it was too late. As per the service she had chosen, there was no warning or introduction; as soon as the door was answered, she was stripped and tied. She was shaking, her heart pounding, yet even through wondering whether this was all a mistake, it somehow felt so perfect.
The first hour was pure bliss, not a word was spoken to her, all part of the package that had been chosen. Of course, after a couple of hours, the denial period would take its devastating effect; soon she’d be begging for an orgasm, begging for just a word or acknowledgement at all from the masked tormentor.
A weekend of orgasm denial and forced orgasms… once chosen, there is no going back. She had asked to be teased to the extreme, wordlessly brought to the brink until she was crying with need, then forced to endure orgasm after orgasm until the weekend was over. This was the service she asked for; it was the service she would undoubtedly receive.
The slow, deliberate trickle of oil against your bare skin sets your body and mind alight. So smooth and silky, you know that those warm palms can feel the stiffness of your nipples beneath them. Just like you were told, you keep your hands up above you, purring in anticipation for what is to come…
Never have you felt so wonderfully powerless, so completely helpless even without restraints. Fighting the burning desire to move, fighting to keep your arms above your head and your legs spread; both your body and mind in a state of submission.
“Your pussy juices are dripping down my cock, dripping down my balls.”
“FFFFUCK… PLEASE, I’m going to cum!”
“NO. Hold it.”
“Aaaaaa… Please, please, oh God.”
Over and over she rides him, sliding her dripping wet sex up and down, clenching so tightly around his impaled cock. Such powerful, unwavering stiffness filling her, drilling her to an orgasm she desperately tries to hold back, no matter how much her body screams for it to gush forth.