"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".
When you walk through the Erotic Halloween Haunted House you’ll see him, though you’ll have heard all of his begging and moaning even from the entrance. It certainly looks erotic, seeing him being teased to the edge constantly while pleading with all of his heart for someone to let him come. It feels as if he’s calling out to every single person walking through. You’ll think to yourself about how good the acting is, you’ll perhaps wonder if they keep him in that state for the duration of the night or let him rest now and again. You might even wonder if or when they let him come at the end of the night, but once you move along, the thought will pass and the rest of the venue will gain your attention.
If only you knew though, that this was not an act, that there was no relief in sight for this tormented man. Nobody recalls quite how long this display has been one of the focal attractions of the venue, whether it was years or decades. Yet every year it is the same, seeing his anguish at being stroked and teased relentlessly to the brink yet never allowed to come. Those hands caressing every inch of his shaft, massaging those balls so tight with the anticipation of orgasmic release. For you it is merely a sight to behold for a few hours of a single night. For him, it is a torture endured endlessly. Those deep groans and cries for mercy have all been pent up for these brief moments in the year, hoping that somebody may have the power to release him from this hell of denial. Trapped on the cusp indefinitely. Never aging, never needing anything other than the heavenly climax that has been withheld for years without a minute of respite. Maybe if you knew, you’d help. Or maybe you’d still walk on by in fear that if you tried to end his suffering, you’d take his place and suffer the same fate.
Her first tour of the premises was one she would never forget. The first taste of the torments that awaited within the University of Erotic Artistry.
The classrooms within had been what she expected, with plenty of seminars under way exploring erotic poetry, live nude model painting classes and lectures examining the role of sexuality within the media. What she was met with at a room labelled ‘discipline room’ however truly made her realise the extent to which sexuality embodied everything within the premises; both the curriculum itself as well as the punishments for those who disobey the rules or fall behind on coursework and assignments.
A lady was sat at a table, lightly adding the last details to a beautiful, intricate painting of female genitalia. Wondering how doing this painting was a punishment, the woman then turned to her and spoke.
“She has been denied for over a week.”
It was then that she realised that this woman holding the paintbrush was not the one being punished. Upon closer inspection, with a gasp of astonishment, it became clear that this was no painting at all. A girl was beneath the table, her genitals being painted with a flower design while she remained as still as possible, most certainly in complete sexual agony. Having been denied for a week, it was clear from the contractions of her pussy and the twitches of her clitoris that those slow, teasing brush strokes were teasingly and tormentingly pleasurable. The woman with the paintbrush seemed to take much delight in making the girl’s swollen clitoris ache with need for more, using her tongue and fingers to add to the cruel torture that the fine tipped paintbrush was mercilessly invoking.
Once it was over, the girl’s pussy was left alone to convulse with the need for more. It would be another few hours of teasing before the student would be allowed to climax. While she was shocked at the type of punishment she was witnessing, she couldn’t help but gaze at the beauty of the sight, unaware that it wouldn’t be long until the staff found a reason to put her through the very same scenario. The staff greatly enjoyed all the opportunities to perfect their techniques in the most erotic of body painting.
A female orgasm-denial/edging audio tease. Follow along with the instructions and hold yourself back until given permission. This contains female audio, posted with the permission of the ‘victim’ of my teasing.
An audio tease for females featuring edging, orgasm denial and multiple forced orgasms. After holding back for so long, finally you’ll receive the orgasm you crave while being watched and tormented by so many around you, all wanting to witness your pleasure.
‘Let you mind wander, it won’t take long before your fingers soon follow’
An audio tease for females involving orgasm denial/edging and erotic teasing. This is the first recording (a test run), with the intention of more to follow in time. The audio (particularly the first section) is not of the best quality.
An audio tease for females involving orgasm denial/edging and erotic teasing (though of a faster nature than previous teases). Follow the instructions and try to last until you are given permission to orgasm.
Masturbate while you are being instructed, having your pleasure taken control of by someone who is watching you squirm with need.
Try and follow the actions, it does not matter if you edge early and often, simply do not orgasm until the very end… until you are given permission. If you climax too soon, stop all stimulation, feeling that cruel, frustrating sensation of being deprived a full orgasm… then try and do better on the next attempt.
“Welcome Andrea my dear, please come in. I am Dr Wand; we have been expecting you!”
The voice was warm, welcoming, enough to put Andrea at ease. The apprehension of turning up to such an isolated clinic was nearly enough to have prevented the usually carefree girl from taking advantage of such an opportunity. A two week vacation to anywhere in the world just to try on a new prototype bra sounded almost too good to be true, but seeing the small group of researchers spread around the room, some obscured by computer screens, others looking up at her in the doorway, all dressed in white lab coats and looking busy, it all felt so much more legitimate.
‘Just remember…two weeks in the French Polynesia islands,’ she kept reminding herself, to make her go through with it.