A Model’s Desire

It was slower than she had expected, the fingertips merely teasing her instead of exploring her as quickly as she would have guessed, though at least the spell had worked.

Vicki had been masturbating as she looked at one of her most recent photos, lying on her back on the bed in the same manner, admiring how the light silhouetted her frame from the side as she arched seductively. Nearing her orgasm, she decided to try out the incantation she’d been taught. Vicki’s friend hadn’t expected any of the spells she had shown her to stick, not having studied them fully like she had. Yet, this one had been on Vicki’s mind for some time; she’d practised and practised in her mind and knew that even though she wasn’t a trained sorceress, it had to work. As she neared her moment, the thought of feeling many hands holding her down and fingerfucking her throughout her orgasm was so enticing.

Uttering the incantation and placing her hands flat on the bed, she waited to feel hands press between her thighs and bring her to orgasm. The fantasy of being able to feel the thoughts of everyone who had looked at her photo had overwhelmed her with lust.

Instead of instantly feeling fingers or even a phallus penetrating her, she endured several minutes of fingertips lightly touching all over her body. It was beyond frustrating, especially with how close she had gotten herself to coming, though she endured it, wanting to experience the full feast of the spell.

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The Astronaut Costume

She’d been here for hours, yet the alien continued to feast on her like she hadn’t passed out again and again from the unendurable pleasure that had consumed her. Despite being in a dream scenario she’d have longed for, Catherine truly could not handle any more.

Having laughed off the warnings about being cautious of what type of outfit she wore, Catherine couldn’t remember anything between leaving the Halloween party and finding herself in this dark, otherworldly place. She had loved the outfit she wore, a skin-tight, light-blue space suit that really accentuated her hips and felt just as comfortable to wear while out as it had when she’d tried it on initially.

Typically, she was too self-conscious to wear something so revealing and skin-tight. For the Halloween party, however, she felt much more daring. What pleased her the most were the number of compliments she received, not just from her friends, and the fact that she never felt leered at or uncomfortable. The sexy astronaut costume was a hit. By the time she was leaving, everything regarding the warnings that had circulated had all been forgotten.

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The Nurse Costume

Grace couldn’t handle any more, yet there were no signs of them stopping.

She had worn her sexy nurse outfit for a few years now, having greatly enjoyed adding different styles of blood effects to nurse attire to give a deranged, scarier impression. This year, it had looked like an evil nurse from an insane asylum. Having gone with the same theme for years, she didn’t think there’d be any danger at all regarding the Halloween costume warnings.

When she woke up, having returned to her home from the Halloween party, she had found herself restrained to a hospital bed. Throughout the hours and hours of her ordeal, Grace was never once spoken. The doctors around her, who all seemed to glow in an almost ghostly manner, only talked amongst themselves. They spoke about her as if she were a patient and did not wish to address her directly. 

For the first hour, she had wondered if they’d administered some kind of powerful aphrodisiac, as she was instantly more aroused than she’d ever been in her life. In the following hours, she did not care at all what was happening – all she cared about was the unfulfilled desire that burned through her like wildfire. As the hours passed, Grace wouldn’t even wonder why she never grew thirsty or needed any rest or sleep. All Grace wondered about for the hours and hours that passed was why she was brought to the edge repeatedly without any sign that the mercy of orgasm would be granted.

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The Cowboy Costume

Daniel had laughed off the warnings, thinking a simple cowboy costume wouldn’t cause the slightest bit of concern.

Now, he found himself helplessly restrained and near hysterical with need.

When he had been walking home from the Halloween party, he was a little disappointed to have not hooked up with anyone but was still riding the buzz from a good night and several drinks. Without any warning or transition, a cloud of darkness overcame him until suddenly he was lying on his back, entirely naked and achingly erect.

He looked around what appeared to be a barn, though a gorgeous woman wearing the same hat he’d worn with his cowboy outfit caught his attention and held it. The hat was the only thing she wore, making his cock pulse a little more. He didn’t understand why he was so unbelievably aroused, given his confusion, yet all he could focus on was her sensuous curves and the fact that she was looking at him hungrily. Her sultry smile made Daniel burn with desire, as too did her warm, southern tone.  

“Well, howdy there, cowboy. I was wonderin’ when you’d finally wake up. Looks like you’re rarin’ to go, and I gotta say, it’s lookin’ mighty fine. But I reckon I shouldn’t hog all the fun for myself, now should I?”

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“Sir! As the footage shows, the faction had caught and imprisoned our agent three days ago. Communication with her had ceased at approximately 1600 hours. The footage we have been receiving indicates that they have been continuing their interrogations as recently as ten minutes ago today. The footage has been coming in every thirty minutes. There seem to be thirty-minute intervals every ninety minutes, indicating breaks in their administration of torture, before they begin once again.”

“At what time did they begin torturing her?”

“When they captured her three days ago, the video footage we received indicates they began at 1700 hours, sir.

Currently, we are unable to pinpoint their location and have no further information.”

“Damn it. She’s truly on her own. God, have mercy on her. Has there been any change in the footage throughout the ordeal?”

“No, Sir. The same two women have been continuously tormenting our agent. It has been the same continuous process. They have been using vibrators to bring our agent to the edge of orgasm repeatedly, stopping every time she has been close. They appear to take it in turns; as soon as one of them has brought our agent to the edge of orgasm, they switch around.

Earlier footage shows our agent screaming out for us to find her. As the footage continued, it changed from her screaming for us to screaming out for anyone to help her to then screaming out for mercy from the assailants. However, nothing had changed their pattern or methods of torture throughout the three days.”

“What pattern?”

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…And Repeat

…And again, you moan in need. That familiar, euphoric surge emanates from between your legs through your very core as the vibrator once again presses to you. The pleasure becomes addictive, constantly circulating as you fantasise about every time before, about how intense it had been.

The same scenarios in your imagination present themselves, yet they become a little more intense than last. The gentle touches become firmer caresses, and the soft strokes become harder pinches.

The look of the device itself adds to the tremors within you. It is so sleek yet powerful, designed solely to press against your intimacy and bring you to the heights of human pleasure. Made to elicit the most extreme joy and ensure you absolutely scream out in ecstasy. You press it harder to yourself, the pulsating vibrations drilling deeper. You remember how intense it was last time. As your hips buck and your legs shake, you wonder if this will be the same or even more extreme.

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Your need is a reflection of my own.

The need to reach the pinnacle again and again. The absolute longing for a pleasure that is too much to bear. A desire to be helpless against that all-consuming ecstasy that burns so deeply.

Throughout every convulsion and twitch, through every shiver and shudder, you long for the type of orgasmic release that I could only dream of. Pleasure beyond my comprehension.

It burns too hot to clutch for too long. Yet to be shackled against it, to force oneself to press to it indefinitely. That is a pleasure I could not withstand. Yet, I will make sure that you withstand it… throughout every screaming, tortuous second.

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Uncertainty

It’s the uncertainty that gets you the most. Wondering whether this time, maybe this time, you’ll get to feel that orgasm. Just like how your own fingertips – your own control of the toy – still leave you unsure of just when; will you give yourself that mercy and let the orgasm overtake you, or will you keep going until your body gives out first, unable to hold it back?

The first time, just the slow and steady rise while your legs spread apart, exposing you. Perhaps your legs are pushed apart fiercely, letting you know just who is in charge, yet you keep them held like that, inviting the exploration. Maybe it’ll happen though, that little thought crossing your mind that an orgasm now would be the biggest shock. The surprise and urgency making it all the more intense. But no, not yet, of course. It pulls away. The first time is playful, teasing in the lightest sense of the word. After all, you aren’t begging yet. So much more time to feast on your pleasure.

The second time, that flutter of desire turns to a sting of need. Good girl, keep it going; we are just beginning. The way your hips just rock into the movement, how your nipples feel so stiff and tender against any glancing touch, your pussy so invitingly wet, your body just giving every signal that it needs it… but not yet.

The third time, that sting of need starts to swell to an ache. The little murmurs turned to moans. You know how those sounds turn me on, and you start to hope they make me show mercy. Deep down, though, you know they won’t; the more you moan, the more I want. The harder it gets, the closer you feel to coming, the more you know that you won’t climax this time. This time, when it stops, you start to ask for it; that’s when you know we’ve truly begun.

The fourth time, that ache of need turns to a burn, that sensation that fills you throughout. It won’t be quenched until you get it, and that’s when you start to plead for it.

Those fingers, those toys, are always able to tantalize you to the very pinnacle, working you like the finest instrument and playing the perfect melody. Right on the edge, if only something could press just inside, or just against your swollen clitoris merely for a moment more. But no, it stops once again, leaving you to beg. Such an erotic thing, begging someone to let you orgasm. Begging to be granted the wonderful release of pent-up pleasure that you need oh so much.

The fifth time, that burning torment turns into an inferno, a raging fire that consumes you. The feeling takes over everything. No longer fantasizing about the situation or scenarios that would turn you on even more – all your focus is between your legs and the joy which that part of you would feel if given the chance. Finally, you feel that little bit of penetration that you crave. This time you come.

Good girl.

Harder than you imagined, the surprise making you gasp as the orgasm hits so intensely. Then, just as you want more, it slows down, not letting you ride it out for as long as you hoped.

It’s the penetration that captivates you, the mixture of sensations that melt together. Your clitoris is on fire, but not one that you want to put out yet, keeping it going, stoking it further. The next time it stops, forced to edge again, it’s worse. Now that you’ve felt that heaven between your thighs, you have to have so much more. But still, you are made to reside on the brink again and again until you can no longer take it. Once it’s absolutely too much, then you’ll feel what you need most, and it won’t stop… but not a moment before.

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Uncertainty (4/5)

The fourth time, that ache of need turns to a burn, that sensation that fills you throughout. It won’t be quenched until you get it, and that’s when you start to plead for it.

Those fingers, those toys, are always able to tantalize you to the very pinnacle, working you like the finest instrument and playing the perfect melody. Right on the edge, if only something could press just inside, or just against your swollen clitoris merely for a moment more. But no, it stops once again, leaving you to beg. Such an erotic thing, begging someone to let you orgasm. Begging to be granted the wonderful release of pent-up pleasure that you need oh so much.

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