‘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. 

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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.

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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…

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Just for a moment, I want to be so close, close enough to almost feel what you feel, to sense the desire and anticipation, the longing. Just knowing how it’s going to feel in that exact same place, the sensations that will stem from right here.

Right now, at the height of eroticism, there is no you or I. There is simply just a single entity of pleasure. To freeze this moment indefinitely, if only it weren’t so unbearable to hold. 

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Just let your imagination take hold, and then you’ll feel them. Those hands, gliding, teasing, trailing, pinching, feeling them linger on those places your own want to press against. The gyration of your hips, the moans of your arousal, the stiffness of your nipples, the beating of your heart getting faster and faster; none of it is under your control. Those fingertips will draw it all from you and more. 

Take those most sensuous thoughts and exotic dreams, those most erotic fantasies and pleasurable desires, and turn them into your own little reality. 

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Just A Glitch

Just a glitch.

Just a glitch, she thought to herself, hoping. The buzzing once again slowly built up after that abrupt halt. The internet feed continued, so there didn’t seem to be any power outage; she thought that it must have been a malfunction of the Sybian vibrator’s program. It turned her on more than anything to know so many people were watching her in this state of pleasure, ready to see her orgasm over and over again. She had always been so sensitive, so easy to bring to orgasm. Little did she know that the purpose of the set was quite the opposite. 

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Does feeling that length within your palm make you that little wetter? Feeling it pulse to your touch. You can imagine how it would feel sliding right where these fingers are. I can feel how it turns you on as well to know that it doesn’t stop even when you try to push that hand away. Letting you know that
when this pulsing, swollen cock replaces those fingers, there won’t be any way to hold it back.

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Content created by: PleasureTorture

Image source from: Nubile Films

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?

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