Forced Orgasms – PleasureTorture

They informed you that with their wish fulfilment package, they would stop nothing short of fulfilling whatever desire you requested.

Now that your body is on fire and your pussy is a swollen inferno of over-stimulation, now that your screams and pleas are doing nothing to slow them down, you begin to wish that you hadn’t solely instructed them simply to make you come until you passed out.

Helpless Model

She thought the photo shoot would just be a simple bondage shoot, some simulated fun, but nothing too intense. She partly wanted them to use the Hitachi wand properly when they had asked her if it would be okay to involve it in the shoot. Though, in truth, she had expected it wouldn’t even be plugged in.

When she did feel that hum of the vibrator press to her mound, an electric shock seemed to jolt through her entire helpless frame. The sounds of other girls moaning and screaming out in pleasure ebbed through the headphones, creating an even more intoxicating state of arousal. Completely lost in a pitch-black abyss of aural and sensual pleasure, she gave in to her desires and took hold of the experience. The only images that ran through her mind were of how erotic this would look on the website. The only time she strained against it was when the first orgasm hit, yet there were no signs of them backing off with the toy. It remained exactly in that same excruciatingly tender spot even as the waves of pleasure thrashed against her, yet there was nothing she could do to tell them she needed it to back off.

The feeling of complete helplessness caused the welling of pleasure to enhance within, especially when she realized that even her guttural moans of overstimulated turmoil were having no sway. What turned her on the most, however, was that even under the vacuum-sealed cover, she had never felt so naked. With her attention solely on the vibrating menace pressed against her hypersensitive mound, the sleek, smooth sheeting clung like a second skin around every contour. With it revealing every outline of her body and with the aggressively intense pleasure enveloping her womanhood, she felt as if her body was on display more than ever before. Never had she felt so entirely revealed in her modelling career as this, her deepest arousal brought so publicly to the forefront.

All she could soon do was whimper through the next orgasm, unable to see a thing or say a word, just the sounds of ecstasy further fueling her fantasies. Right now, her world was solely revolving around the inferno of those orgasmic peaks and the searing heat between each one that seemed to burn hotter and hotter each time, a heat she couldn’t escape from.

She couldn’t wait to see how hot she would look, squirming in such wonderful agony.

The joy always lies in the thought of what is next.

Knowing that the vibrations will not yield, wondering how intense they’ll feel after the next few minutes.

Thinking of how you’ll possibly suffer through the next orgasm after how unbearably intense this one is.

Wondering just how sensitive your clitoris will get once the next wave of ecstasy threatens to drown you.

Aroused and terrified in near equal measure of how the device would feel if it pressed directly against your skin, without the barrier of the fabric slightly shielding it.

Curious when you might need to signal the safeword and whether the next orgasmic embrace will grip just that little too tightly. Questioning why feeling the restraints rendering you helpless makes the ordeal even more erotic, no matter how much you fight against them.

Continue to thrash and writhe and wonder; I’ll keep this right here and ensure that you find out very soon.

I wanted him to restrain me and force me to come more than I’d ever experienced, more than I could ever make myself come.

I wanted to feel that vibrator grind even harder against my clit when I told him to stop, to feel that vibration punishing my pussy when I said it was too much.

I wanted to beg for mercy the way I imagine it when I’m masturbating. I just didn’t realise how intense it would be after the first time I came, how my body would be turning on itself for allowing it to endure this, the battle between what my body can handle and what my mind craves.

It was only seconds after asking him to please let me come that the words ‘please stop’ escaped my lips. With every orgasm, I’d ask it again, hoping that the words would take new meaning to convey what my tensed muscles and trembling limbs could not. I want him to feel for a second what he’s doing to me, to understand what I’m going through, whether that would make him a little merciful. To feel such pleasure that surpasses that moment of devastation and veers into agony.

But the part that resides deep within, the part that imagined this while I masturbated and edged myself to the fantasy, that part wants it never to end.

Haunted House ‘Touch Pass’

Holly wanted to experience the ‘touching’ option of the haunted house, opting to pay a little more than the average VIP option to experience whatever touching elements this erotic haunted house provided.

For much of the venture into the haunted house, she was a little disappointed in the experience. She thought the displays and props were fantastic and was blown away by how realistic the sexual scenes looked, with actors and actresses being sexually teased and tormented so realistically. However, the disappointment came from how underwhelming the ‘touching’ aspect of her experience was. While venturing through the erotic haunted house, witnessing many sexual scenes and jump scares, all Holly received were a few touches to the shoulder and back – nothing that would shock or perhaps even arouse her.

At least she still enjoyed how much effort had been put into the costumes and set design. Watching some scenes involving men’s throbbing cocks being teased by zombie nurses, women being forced to orgasm in medical facilities and prisons and hearing the mixture of ghostly wails and screams of ecstasy was enough to arouse her still.

When she was near the end, she finally received what she had hoped for when she purchased the ‘touching allowed’ ticket.

Multiple actors in the ‘mental ward’ area of the haunted house who had jumped out at her suddenly grabbed her and took her off the path and away from any other patrons.

Feeling so many hands tearing the clothes from her body, Holly was ecstatic to finally receive the attention she’d hoped for in the haunted house. As much as she tried to feign fear, trying to blend in with the horror aesthetic and the sounds of ghoulish groans and screams in the background, she still couldn’t contain her grin of excitement as she was entirely stripped and restrained, strapped to some kind of bondage chair.

Already so wet with arousal from the lingering touches, it turned her on even more to realise that she was restrained within a room she herself had passed by as one of the patrons. Her eyes lit up with excitement to see others walking by and looking into the room she was in; she had been turned into part of the attraction. Her arousal to be an exhibition was heightened when one of the asylum ‘lunatics’ stood in front of her with a throbbing erection aimed between her thighs.

With an enthusiastic nod to him, she felt him slip within her waiting sex, clenching him tightly as he thrust intently within. Playing the part well, he fucked her with manic intensity. The other cast members left the room, leaving the pair alone. He wordlessly fucked her, her moans and eventual screams, as she built towards a pinnacle, blended seamlessly with the wails and screams permeating the surroundings. What helped bring her to the brink fastest was the fact that the man kept having to slow down occasionally to prevent himself from coming. Knowing that her body was turning him on so much (along with passers-by) and that her soft, wet pussy was too much for his aching length to handle was such an erotic boost for her.

When she came, her pussy convulsing around him, she closed her eyes to revel in the ecstasy, to contain it within and indulge in the self-contained majesty of bliss. Once she tried to close her legs instinctively, finding that the restraints would give her no ability to defend her sensitive pussy, she realised that the man wanted to ensure her screams were as authentic as possible. The moment she came down from her pinnacle, the man withdrew and knelt down to devour her pussy like the ravenous beast he was playing.

Even as she strained and writhed and cried out that her pussy was overly sensitive now that she’d climaxed, he wouldn’t stop. He continued to suck and lick and eat her out as if his life depended on it, without acknowledging her. The constant attention to her swollen clitoris and the eyes gazing through the bars at her naked body made sure that even through the intensity of sensations, Holly was still brought to orgasm. It was as if simply thinking about what the guests could see made Holly’s body respond in a way to show off every facet of her sexuality. She came every few minutes as the tongue lashed away at her, thinking about those people seeing her pussy being devoured and how her body jerked while trying to get away from the overstimulation.

The orgasms continued to take her breath away. She was barely able to scream out for mercy, yet wondered if her pleas for a moment of rest could be heard over the sounds throughout the speakers of the haunted house. The thought that he could hear her and simply wasn’t stopping made her come even harder, hard enough to cause her to see stars.

She realised, as she bucked and grinded against his mouth, her pussy juices dripping down his chin, which pressed hard against her sopping wet slit, that she was entirely part of the attraction now. It wouldn’t be until another hour that the haunted house would be closing. She wondered if she’d have to endure his eager mouth and the forced orgasms it thrust upon her for the entire duration. As she pulled uselessly against the restraints, part of her hoped so.

Haunted House ‘Prison’

Forced to come again and again, she tries to hold back the tears of overstimulation for as long as possible.

Made to look like a prisoner being punished, she suffers throughout the night, restrained firmly on top of the Sybian vibrator. The worst is when the visitors of the haunted house get a chance to take over. As patrons of the haunted house walk by, the Sybian is set to a moderate vibration, keeping her slowly building towards the next climax for the guests to witness. Those who paid extra for the VIP pass, however, get the opportunity to take over the control of the Sybian. This is when it’s hardest for her to endure, when practically every guest spends the time turning it onto the maximum setting and leaving it that way for the duration.

Her screams for mercy as the vibrator devastates her oversensitive pussy blends in with the shrieks, bangs, wails and eerie sounds that bleed throughout the haunted house.

All she can do is endure the torment, unable to truly embrace the release of orgasmic joy and instead suffering the wrath of overstimulation. The Sybian drills her to the core; a sizzle of vibration turns into an unceasing earthquake in the hands of the guests.

As much as she tries to beg and plead for a moment of mercy, they view her as a prop in the show, an actress to entertain them.

Granted, she will be paid extra not to break character. She’s always been able to hold it together and earn her bonus. This year would be no different. Through her tears, as she orgasms beyond what she can handle, she pleads for mercy, begs them to stop and says that she’s innocent. She plays the part well.

When one of the staff ties a rope around her waist and hands it to one of the guests, she nearly breaks character as her clitoris suffers the full brunt of the Sybian. No longer able to try and wriggle away from the intense vibration, the passers-by are able to pull her forward and ensure that her swollen red clit is pummeled with stimulation.

Once she could finally breathe, once the crowds began to die down and the orgasms stopped blending into one another, she thought about the next night. She’d spend the next couple of nights abstaining from touching herself, wanting to ensure she didn’t become desensitized to the pleasure. She wanted to experience the complete pleasure of being absolutely at the mercy of the Sybian and the guests. It’s why she comes back every year, to experience it all over again.

Laura volunteered for the Erotic Haunted House, wanting to make a little extra money as well as to have a little sexual fun. The thought of being watched by strangers while being teased and tantalised was so enticing. Yet while her screams at first were simply play acting for the guests passing by, after a little, they became genuine. The ‘demented nurses’ attending to her wanted to put on a show, so they made sure that they were going to give Laura forced orgasms in order to make sure those screams, those times when she was begging for it to stop, that it was too much, were all sincere.

Hearing this girl begging and pleading with the patrons walking by kept attracting attention and turned them on even more. The girls in control wanted to put on a good show. With Laura completely restrained and helpless, they were free to keep the powerful wand vibrators nestled against her swollen red pussy for as long as they desired. All Laura could do was pray that after they forced her to orgasm the next time, they’d let her rest. Maybe the next time… or perhaps the next.

‘Erotic Forced-Orgasm Ordeal’

You knew it would be too much, but you still let yourself give in to your fantasy and make it a reality. The scenario you had chosen, ‘erotic forced orgasm ordeal’, would have been enough on its own, but agreeing to not masturbate for the two entire weeks before it was scheduled was taking it to a new extreme. You had barely managed to last more than one week in the past when you had imposed your own little denial sessions. Yet you still managed to claw your way through the full two weeks. The desire to touch yourself had been so overwhelming, the way your pussy always throbbed just a little, even at the slightest hint of sexuality in your day-to-day life. So much of the day was spent focused on that soft little area between your thighs and all of the things that could be done to it.

Once the time came and they tied you in place, you inwardly wished you had opted for the in-person session, just to feel those hands press to you, just for someone to do anything to you. Even if it were only going to be minutes before your orgasm, it was still not soon enough. You imagined to yourself that the ball gag was just to make sure that the organisers couldn’t hear your pleasure, a way to suppress their desires and ignore your pleas, to stop themselves from coming in and fucking you all night long. The thought had your sex dripping already.

Once the vibrator was set in place, you were left alone. You were so turned on that you could quite easily have come just from grinding against the head of it. It turned on before you could test that theory, however, and in seconds, you were screaming in your first orgasm. That pent-up orgasm that you’d been holding back for those weeks. As if every day of arousal had been stored for this very moment to explode from you fiercely enough to knock you out. The power of the vibrator took your breath away, leaving you very few moments to catch your breath as it continued its merciless work. It was so good it hurt, yet that orgasm did not subside, so drawn out and agonising in its splendour.

Now you know why you picked this scenario, wanting to feel all aspects of human empathy taken out of the equation, to live out your fantasy of being tortured with pleasure. This was torture. The way it was held in place so fiercely against your pussy made it so much worse. If only there was some give, maybe that would make it a little more bearable.

Even with your sex so sensitive, it continued to penetrate you to the core with those unforgiving vibrations. So sensitive, yet you needed more, and it was happy to oblige.

The second orgasm made you pull fiercely on the restraints, your body wanting to escape the torment that your mind was willing on. The next couple of orgasms, however, seemed to mesh into one. Just a barrage of over-stimulation that forced your tenderness to surrender to the orgasm. Having denied yourself for so long, though, you were more sensitive than ever. No amount of edging yourself and masturbating past your limit could ever have prepared you. The vibrator would not slow down or soften its touch no matter how much you began screaming out. Your only request was to be left until you were literally in tears of pleasure, then to be left for another twenty minutes after that.

While you feel the trickle of pussy juice along your buttocks, while your extremities shake against the restraints, while your clitoris pulsates in need to escape the onslaught, part of you wishes that your tears began streaming after just the first orgasm.

Is that realisation one of joy or of slight terror? Knowing that even after coming beyond what you could have ever expected to handle from the intense vibrator, those fingers inside you seem to rekindle the flame. The realisation that your pussy could be forced to orgasm even more from those fingertips finding just the right spot.

There’s something so intense about having someone do that to you; the desire projected from someone else adds so much more. The unmoving, unfeeling vibrator locked in place made you feel like you’d die from the pleasure. Yet having a person take control makes it feel like they want you to die from the pleasure, so terribly intense to have emotion and desire added to the beautiful torment. Maybe that is why you are coming again, even though you said you couldn’t take any more.

For so long, you’ll think that it’s about teasing you. You’ll think that is why I restrained you. Those delicious little moments when you sway those hips and tense that cute ass of yours, hoping to entice me to let you come. Perhaps in those minutes, while you aren’t quite teetering on the brink, you’ll wonder whether you’ll handle the orgasm to follow, whether I’ll push you too much, but that passes; your need to orgasm pushes all else aside.

It’s during those most intense periods when it’s hard to tell whether that shine to your skin is still just from the massage oil or from sweat; that is when the real begging starts. But it is just before the first orgasm hits you, just when my fingers slip within you, that you realise that the bonds that hold you are going to feel just that bit tighter very soon.

At first, you don’t pull so hard, simply caught up in the pure rapture that encases you. However, when you come down and realise it isn’t stopping, then you know there’s no going back. They feel so tight around your wrists and legs, as if every orgasm tightens them just that little more as if it’s the rope itself that wants to torture you. No matter whether it is the fingers or the vibrator working your pussy to a frenzy over and over again, every time you orgasm, your sex feels just that little more exposed and helpless.

You keep asking yourself the question whether, after I have used the vibrator and after I’ve used my fingers to make you scream out, I’ll let you go. You should instead be asking yourself, once she’s used the vibrator and her fingers on me, will she then use her mouth?

After all, why do you think I restrained you so securely like this?