Female Denial – Page 7 – PleasureTorture

New Year’s Eve

Just another couple of hours and then the new year. Just another couple of hours… and then you’ll get what you need.

What started as a simple challenge had become a battle of wills. Hearing the moans, the desperate cries for release, made it so much harder to hold on. The biggest rule was that when somebody called out that they were about to come, the other person must stop and let them rest, no matter how tempting it was to make them go over the edge. They all agreed that nobody could climax until midnight – until it was the new year. Anybody who failed to hold back would spend all of January in a state of denial.

You close your eyes for a moment as if to shut away the onslaught of imagery that tempts you, yet all it does is make you focus on the sensations driving you closer. You open them again and simply look around, trying to take your mind off of the mouth that is working you to the brink. Watching a couple suck each other does not help, seeing the woman on top wrap her lips around that pulsating length while her lover does all he can to frustrate her further. With her legs straddling his head, he grasps her ass while continuing to suck her clitoris, as if pulling her closer and letting her know that she isn’t going anywhere else until one of them gives. It won’t be long until he begins to pump his hips up and down, then she’ll know that she has him right where she wants.

You gaze around the room as you feel your own impending orgasm wreak havoc, wanting so desperately to just give in. The sounds of sex continue to pour fuel on the flames; the wet slapping sounds of skin meeting skin, the aching moans of desire echoing throughout. Women bounce up and down on the laps of their partners, feeling every inch twitching within at the moment they are told to stop. Those mischievous grins signal that they want nothing more than to just jerk their waist up and down once more, to force that stiff length to convulse in pleasure and see their man cry out in orgasmic joy. Yet still, midnight is some time away, more time to keep those stiff cocks swollen and in need of more.

You want to come so badly, for that mouth to just bring you over the pinnacle, yet you hold out… soon you’ll get what you need. Your attention is pulled to a woman screaming out as her pussy is devoured, letting everyone know that she can’t take it, that she just needs to come. The woman between her legs looks up and tells her no, that it isn’t time yet. A shiver of arousal runs through your spine at hearing those words, then seeing the woman lean her head down and begin again. The way she is lapping away at the woman’s dripping pussy makes it clear that she is taking much delight in evoking such moans and squeals of frustration.

Various couples look into one another’s eyes as if feeding off of their arousal and trying to will the other to give in, to succumb to their desires. It’s so erotic to know what they are all feeling, to understand that deep, bubbling climax is ready to spill over and gush forth, to know that it is their own body that is doing this to them.

You feel your orgasm taking hold, the fight between wanting to hold back and recover and wanting the mouth to never stop tormenting you. Everything within yearns to just let go as the countdown begins. Ten seconds is all it will take… yet the tightening in your core, those little tremors within, telling you that you may not last. The fireworks are about to go off. Ten… nine… eight… so close.

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Image source from: Vixen

Thirty-Minutes

Surely a video of somebody else, a doppelganger of your own quivering body, yet you know that it is yourself you are seeing, turning to the side and watching the footage on the screen as if watching a stranger writhing with need.

It is these short moments of rest that linger the most cruelly; you know by now that begging for them to give you what you need so badly will do nothing. You can merely turn and watch yourself from the angle of the recording, watching them zoom in and adjust the camera filming every moment of your blissful suffering. You have long since given up the struggle of pulling on the restraints; all efforts are focused on the pulsating desire within you.

You had agreed so naively, thinking it would simply be a little erotic fun to be filmed, thinking it would just be something arousing to masturbate to in future. The joy of having pleasure being focused on you, something that had been missing in your busy life and hectic schedule. Yet now that seems so long ago, never had you realised that this coursing pleasure would burn so deeply inside, never dying down, simply simmering within.

From the moment your hands were tied above your head, it seemed as if it was their goal to tease you to madness. Taking turns, they made sure there were always at least three pairs of hands touching you at all times. The way their fingertips and palms worked so slowly seemed to stimulate your body as if you had never been touched before in your life.

For half an hour, they tormented you, yet not even touching your nipples or clitoris until the final minutes. All the while, they whispered into your ears, telling you exactly what the cameras were showing, telling you just how delicate the movements of your body are as they started to brush and flicker over those most sensitive little peaks. In the last seconds, they finally brought you to the edge… then always left you alone, walking away behind the camera to leave you teetering cruelly on the pinnacle. One minute always passed, the camera picking up every display of uncontrollable longing, then another thirty minutes of relentless teasing… on and on until this point in time, where you feel as if your throbbing clitoris is the only thing in the room with a pulse.

They toy with you in unison, an orchestra of pleasure playing your body like an instrument, leaving you to watch yourself bucking your hips up and down with need, silently screaming for the climax. As you writhe in tortured pleasure, you think about what they had just whispered to you: that in one minute, you should keep your eyes on the screen to watch yourself as a mouth finally sucks against your clitoris. A shiver runs through you at the thought.

Any second now, a tongue will find the pulsating, agonising beauty of your tender cherry.

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Submission by: a-mind-full-of-dirt

Did you really think I would go any faster?

I remember you telling me how wonderful that slow build-up was, how intensely it made you come. That’s something I’ve been picturing ever since you first mentioned it, the way you must have shuddered in pleasure, the way your back must have arched while you convulsed in bliss. All while those soft bristles pressed so delicately to that tender clitoris. So much time was spent unsuccessfully trying to have that paintbrush press a little harder to that swollen jewel; finally, the speed and pressure were just enough to topple you over the edge of an orgasm.

I would love nothing more than to feel what it’s like, to have something so soft and delicate constantly teasing something so precious and sensitive. The way you moan, the way you writhe, the way you beg – I’ll use all of those to gauge just what it’s like now that I have you here. The restraints will show you just as much mercy as I will give: keeping you trapped within this realm of frustration.

I’m going to keep sweeping this brush back and forth until I know your body can not feel any more in need, until you’ve begged so much that you’ve lost all hope of mercy. These gentle strokes: not enough to let you come, but just enough to keep you teetering on that bring, to keep that climax constantly simmering. You can pull against the restraints as much as you want. I’m not speeding up. I love how your pussy seems to blossom for me, getting so swollen as those tender lips open up, trying to invite me to give it so much more, all while your clitoris pulses in desperate need. The perfect picture, one that I want to keep in sight for as long as possible.

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Submission by: Wanderlustworld2019

Drinking Games

Never had she expected that a little game they had played during a night out would come back to haunt her, yet here she was, tied spread-eagle to the bed at her housemate’s mercy.
”30 minutes for every guy who buys you a drink.’’
It hadn’t seemed too dangerous…

It’s a pattern I’ll repeat over and over again…

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Image source from: Denyherorgasm

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.

Haunted House (Carly)

Carly had been so turned on by hearing the stories of “the trapped man” and how people were able to walk by and watch this man being tormented relentlessly. She had pictured him being restrained and stroked to the edge of orgasm repeatedly while she wrote down ‘voyeurism’ on the waiver form, under what she fantasised about most.

Having been separated from her group, she was relieved to be approached by one of the performers. Carly felt a surge of arousal course through her as the woman wordlessly attached restraints to her wrists and ankles. When she soon felt hands jut out from the wall behind her and begin caressing her, she realised that this was just how the story she had heard played out; the thought of taking his place, to be teased to the brink of climax while others simply walked by and watched, set her body alight. The woman stayed and aided the hands in fondling her, the touches becoming more and more intimate. As she became more aroused, Carly noticed that a lot more people were walking by than she had seen previously in the Haunted House. At first, she looked out to see if any of her friends were among these people, then she assumed that these extra people may all be part of the scenario, designed to indulge her voyeuristic fantasies even more. Even if her friends had appeared, however, by the time the hands started to masturbate her, she wouldn’t have even noticed. The culmination of being so openly on display and at the mercy of these dedicated touches was enough to quickly bring Carly to the brink of orgasm: just as quickly, it was snatched away.

Being too impatient to frustrate herself during masturbation, Carly had never teased herself much during her private moments. Being brought to the edge like this was such a new sensation, and it took its toll immediately. After merely the first time those fingers all pulled away, she begged them to finish her off. She wanted to come in front of all the people walking by, yet when the hands continued this sequence a couple more times, denying her the release she craved, she understood that the story she had heard of “the trapped man” was something which they wanted her to fully experience. She was too focused on her need to orgasm to ponder how they could have possibly known that she had heard of the story before.

The woman overseeing her torment did not utter a word in response to her pleas for them to stop and just let her come. Those cruel fingers simply worked her slick, sensitive pussy to a frenzy time and time again. Somehow the hands knew just how to touch her, working her body in exactly the same way she would when playing with herself. Having always let herself come as soon as possible, being made to endure this constant stop-start method of stimulation was too much to handle. After 20 minutes of having her orgasm withheld, she began screaming out for the passers-by to help her come. They ignored her pleas, many simply stopping for a while to watch her sweet suffering. Never had Carly ever thought that her own pleasure could be used to torment her in this way.

Once she would finally be given her moment of release, she’d have to endure the same wicked stimulation all over again from the start.

“Let’s try that again, shall we?” said the woman at last.

Knowing how long they had kept her in that state of need and how merciless they were at teasing her to the brink time and time again, the thought of enduring it further was unbearable.

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Image source from: Primal

Haunted House (Olivia)

As Olivia ventured deeper into the haunted house, she noticed that it seemed to start brimming with plant life, gorgeous flowers that seemed to breathe a new lease of life into what had been such a dark, claustrophobic setting. It was only when she entered a large, garden-like open space that she realised that she had unknowingly been separated from her friends. Before she had time to call back out to them, a group dressed as zombies sprang forth from the surrounding foliage and apprehended her. She had no time to react or even cry out for help as she was stripped naked and thrust onto a table at the centre of the thriving garden. The moment she was held down on it, she realised that the garden itself wasn’t simply a prop. It was pulsating with life; the greenery seemed to undulate as if breathing in and out. The movement above, with the rhythmic churning of branches and petals, almost hypnotised the naked girl for a moment, though the realisation that the hands were no longer what kept her held down brought her back to reality.

Let’s Play…

I want to play a game…

You have sought out the delights of penetration at so much cost. Passing by so many opportunities for true pleasure for the sake of that quick fix. How many times you overlooked those such as I who could have provided you a night of pleasure beyond your dreams for the easy catch. I have watched you leave those clubs with the same carbon copy reveller over and over again, only to complain about such lack of satisfaction. Now you will learn what it is to find your own satisfaction, something much deeper.

I have coated your sex with a powerful aphrodisiac which causes an insatiable longing: that torturous arousal will not fade for quite some time. If you can last until the time is up without succumbing to the need to slide that glass dildo inside yourself, you will be free. If, however, you let it slip into you, or if you stop sliding it against your womanhood, or if you even allow yourself to come, you lose. If you fail, you will be fully restrained to that table and suffer an entire hour of ruined orgasms.

How long do you have to last before you are free? That is something you’ll just have to patiently find out. Good luck, the time starts now.

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Image source from: W4B

He told her that he would bring her to the pinnacle of orgasm for at least an hour. The sensation was unlike anything; she simply giggled at first, unsure how to react to such sensations. After a while, she began to realise that this burning need would not simply fade, but by that time, it was too late to stop…

As the second hour of denial passed, her giggles became desperate cries for release… cries for an orgasm that would not come. If only she knew how it felt to be trapped in this torment for so long before she agreed to it.