The first orgasm was just to make her more sensitive to what was in store, to make sure that when she unsuccessfully attempted to pull her hips back and away from his touch, she’d fully realise just how helpless she was. The thought of not being able to pull away once the water was thrashing against her sex made her body surge with desire, even during the afterglow of her first orgasm. All those times using the shower head in her bathroom to pleasure herself would pale in comparison to this, to finally be made to push past those moments of over-sensitivity.
The minutes it took for him to manoeuvre things into place felt like hours to the unbearably aroused young woman, fit to bursting with anticipation and dripping wet, her pussy still tingling from the fingertips that had already lavished it with so much attention.
Without warning, the streams of water hit like a whip, jets of focused stimulation that seemed designed just to stimulate and torment all at once. Her gasps could not be heard over the sound of the water smacking against her sex, slapping hard as if trying desperately to penetrate that tenderness. To have so much pressure forcing against her most delicate place should have been painful, yet it was an indescribable pleasure that teetered along the line of being too much and not enough at the same time. Whereas when she played in the shower with the faucet, she could control the force and accuracy to some degree, here she had to endure an unchanging torrent of power that would not relent, making her both anticipate and fear how it would feel once she came, her already hypersensitive clitoris wanting so much more protection from the stimulation. Her hips didn’t know what they wanted to do, whether to rock up and down to attract the attention closer to where needed it in a bid for the climax she craved, or whether to try and pull away and stop the torrent of sensations.
Once the whip-like jets of water-focused their attack more directly on the innermost regions of her sex, the orgasm, which was so slowly building up seemed to leap upon her. Like having her pussy constantly slapped, the sensations were all her mind could maintain any focus on, an unrelenting, pleasure-filled, stinging impact that would cause for an orgasm to be the only possible outcome her body could comprehend. Partly due to the strict constraints of her bondage, the orgasm was the most intense she’d ever experienced. To be so wholly immobilized while experiencing sensations of pleasure that made her every muscle tense up, that made her want to curl up and protect her sensitivities, made it all the more agonisingly erotic; it was everything that she’d ever hoped it would be. Of course, the torrent did not cease for a second. Striking her clitoral region like a million thrashing tongues, her thighs strained to conceal herself from the onslaught to no avail. Never before had she felt so completely exposed.
More intense than the roughest touch of a lover, the water showed no mercy to her delicate flower. At least when in the shower she could at the very least change the setting on the faucet to give herself a little respite. All she could do here was scream and cry out that she had come, though the man in control of the faucets knew that she wanted so much more. With her legs shaking uncontrollably, she strained against the bonds, both reviling and relishing the captivity as the water continued to wreak havoc against her sex. The problem for her would be that it would take a while for it to truly feel painful. Until that time, it would force another few orgasms from her trembling body. From then on, she’d never be able to have a shower without thinking of these moments.
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