"When you are pulling against the restraints… when your back is arched and your hips are writhing… when your mouth is open in a silent scream of tortured rapture… you will know that my work has begun."
Cheerleading practice was long over, though Emma’s workout was only just beginning.
She hadn’t expected to be asked to come over to Annie’s house, though she jumped at the opportunity to bridge the gap between her biggest rival on the team. Since being picked, Emma had felt much resentment from her teammates, particularly from Annie; she was unsure whether it was her looks, her acrobatic ability, or the strong bond she alone had already developed with the coach.
She was just a newcomer, and these girls saw her as a threat. They wanted to show her where she stood.
Under the pretence of wanting to bridge the gap between them, Annie had invited Emma back to her house after training. Little did Emma know that Annie had invited another friend over, both with the same intentions… both waiting patiently for their prey.
The moment Emma entered the bedroom, she was surprised to see Tory there as well. Before Emma could ask what it was that they both wanted to talk to her about, Annie pulled her towards them; while the door was behind her and escape was still possible, Emma stayed still, as if trapped by the intense gazes of the two girls before her. Even though she was fully clothed, Emma felt so on display to the pair of girls in front of her, yet her embarrassment was not going to end there. Tory and Annie began to comment on how tightly the outfit fit Emma, taking delight in watching her squirm in embarrassment at the revelation of being the subject of such lustful thoughts. They tried to pour as much imagery into Emma’s mind as possible. From the way every team member watches her arch her back in every routine, as if baring her body to the world to gaze at and touch, to the way they hold her in split lifts, as if parting her thighs to every spectator to gaze at the slender curve between her legs, all with one thought in mind. Blushing, Emma stood awkwardly, the images in her own mind overcoming her while Annie moved in closer.
Helpless to them, her thighs spread wide, her wrists cuffed tightly, making sure she won’t escape what they have in store for her. Their little orgasm doll for as long as they desire…
The time had come. There was nowhere she could hide. The moment she set forth to try and run, they appeared, as if they had been waiting all along. Just like every year.
She remembered the first time, seven years ago, how the women had appeared. Somehow her dreams had prepared her, as if these spirits were communicating with her, yet it was still a shock when she felt their touch. How the light touches became more intense fondling, letting her realise that this was no dream. The way they teased her, aroused her until she didn’t care about the madness of the situation. Fear had long since passed and given way to desire, tantalising her body until all she could think about was the orgasm she craved. Finally, they had made her come, then again and again. Luckily, that first time, they stopped before it became too much to take. Yet it was the whispers she had heard after that always came back to haunt her every year.
“Every year on October 31st, we shall return, and every year, we shall tease you twice as much as the last. Every year we will make you orgasm twice as much as the last. Every year, we will enjoy you twice as much.”
On the 4th year, she tried to run by staying in a hotel, yet still, they came to her. It made no difference, they were latched onto their prey, and they would not relent.
She had thought about this night for almost every day of the year, a mixture of arousal and terror. Last year had been unbearable. How they had teased her so cruelly, for so long, keeping her on the brink constantly, all while she had begged and screamed for them to please let her come. Yet their calculated touches and eager mouths seemed to indulge in the responses. It made it so much worse that they never said a word to her. No matter how much she cried out or told them that she’d do anything, there was no response at all. The only thing they would ever say, just the same as every year, was at the end when they’d repeat that next year, she’ll get twice as much as the last. Even as tears of pure frustration lined her cheeks, they still never said a word. Her body was their only focus. Over the years, she had tried to train herself to handle what would come. Edging herself during her private moments of play, and asking lovers to keep her from coming for as long as possible, none of it helped. No matter how much she tried, there was no way to handle the level of extremes they took it to. Last year they kept her on the edge for so long that she thought she were trapped in a nightmare. All she could do was weep for mercy.
Once they had finally let her come, it should have been a relief, yet she knew what was in store. Their intense manhandling of her did not stop. The way they devoured her pussy, sucking her clitoris as if they always wanted her to know that to them, pleasure should be its own form of agony. If only they would have stopped for just a second, just to let her bask in the warmth of her desperately needed orgasm. Instead, it was just one screaming orgasm onto another. They were always able to find new ways to bring her to a shuddering climax. Their fingers seemed to be able to map the most sensitive parts of her pussy, exploring her in ways no one else – including herself – could ever accomplish. Their silence and their smiles, always so cruel. Originally she had wondered if they could not understand her, if the words they repeated each year were the only thing they could say. Yet every time she had told them that she was going to come, they understood enough to suddenly go faster.
In the first year, the pleasure was heavenly, a gift. For the recent few years however, it was hellish. Last year it was nothing short of torture; she remembered passing out more than once, yet each time when she came to, they started again, forcing her to orgasm repeatedly.
Usually, she would dream of what they would do, the way their hands cupped her chest, the way their tongues flickered along her nipples, how their mouths and fingers felt when delving into her dripping wet pussy. Yet during the weeks leading up to this Halloween night, she had simply been dreaming of the way she had screamed last year, the ways she had begged with them for mercy and how it all went unheeded.
She couldn’t take it last year, yet this year would be twice as much torture. She was terrified of what that would feel like. There was no way she could handle it, yet there was nowhere to run or hide. They were here.
