Lesbian – PleasureTorture

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.

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.

I have a feeling that you know that pushing your hand against mine makes me want to keep going even more.

Know that every touch, every lick, every nibble, every single action, is designed with you at the centre. There can be nothing more erotic than knowing that everything we do is solely with the intent to make you moan and to make your hips writhe.

Just imagine being in her position right now, completely lost in the sensations, trapped in the eroticism.

That motion along your chest, those fleeting little sensations up and down your cleavage, leading that scenic pathway to those slowly stiffening peaks. The little pinch that makes you feel those sharp little tugs from her pursed lips. It’s only when you are desperate for more, once you cannot stand the attention placed solely on your chest, that the motions lead downwards.

Just trailing along your thighs, leading that swirling dance towards that coveted space. The tender motions, almost like brushstrokes, sweep closer and closer until your hips plead for contact.

You can feel it so clearly as the lips press right there, the way your wrists would strain against those bonds in a bid for some resemblance of control. Behind the blindfold, you can imagine countless lovers and idols of lust. All of them feasting so intently upon that soft, sweet sex. How that mouth would work you to a frenzy, just keeping you held in the clutches of bliss but never quite unleashing the fury you need. Always keeping steady enough to not let you veer too close. Not quite to get you to the edge repeatedly, but instead to merely take the very longest route.

On and on that mouth suckles and caresses, like the slowest masturbation, just enough to build it, but so slowly it takes every ounce of control not to speed up. At this speed, you know what that wondrous lover between your legs knows; once you finally climax, it will feel more intense than any other way you’ve masturbated before. But it won’t stop or speed up. That pace will keep you held in the grasp of that orgasm for the longest time possible.

That’s it, get ready for it. You know it’s coming…

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?

Don’t take your eyes off of me for a second. I want you to watch every moment of me very, very slowly sucking your delicate, dripping-wet pussy, knowing you won’t be able to do anything to speed me up. Good girl, raise those hips. I want to feel how much you want more.

“Remember what you told us, ‘Please don’t stop making me come.’ We have had to remind you for the last fifteen minutes of this request. You can struggle as much as you like, but we’re going to keep our promise to you. When you stop coming, then we’ll know it’s time to stop. But for now, it doesn’t seem like you are anywhere close to that point.”

Your favourite little game. You are always pushing one another to the breaking point while trying your best to control it, to push those feelings down just a little deeper than her. You try so hard not to climax before her, but hearing those moans and feeling the gyrations and little trembles makes it much more intense.

Does knowing exactly how she is feeling make it easier? Or harder?

That burning pleasure rising constantly within you, the wetness around your fingers a signal of the orgasm you want to release; you need it to overcome her. Perhaps this time, when your thighs clench, and your moans turn to gasps, that’s when she’ll give in and come. If not, can you last another moment rocking on the edge?

To do anything to feel you writhe. To do everything to keep you locked in that pleasure.