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.
Continue reading Just A Glitch
You have no idea how long I’m going to force you to orgasm or how hard I’m going to press the vibrator to your already oversensitive clitoris. All you know is that the longer I keep you on the edge like this, the more intense it is going to be. That wonderfully erotic mixture of apprehension and anticipation for how it’s going to finally feel, nothing is more of a turn-on.
Your favourite little game. You are always pushing one another to the breaking point while trying your best to control it, to push those feelings down just a little deeper than her. You try so hard not to climax before her, but hearing those moans and feeling the gyrations and little trembles makes it much more intense.
Does knowing exactly how she is feeling make it easier? Or harder?
That burning pleasure rising constantly within you, the wetness around your fingers a signal of the orgasm you want to release; you need it to overcome her. Perhaps this time, when your thighs clench, and your moans turn to gasps, that’s when she’ll give in and come. If not, can you last another moment rocking on the edge?
She wondered to herself, ‘Was it worth it?’
An eruption of pleasure. Twenty seconds of ecstasy. Her body was seizing, a sense of weightlessness, grounded only by the pulsating pleasure originating between her legs and spreading throughout every inch of her body. For that brief moment, Mia was no longer a solid being but a liquid entity unable to be contained. Only once the tide receded did she realise what she’d done and what was to come.
‘Was it worth it?’ – Seconds before Mia’s orgasm, and certainly during it and for a minute afterwards, she’d have said, ‘Yes!’
Now that Mia was suffering the consequences, ones that she had agreed to if she dared climax without permission, she’d argue that it wasn’t worth it. Not worth the need that coursed through her. Not worth the desperation that clouded her mind and sapped her body.
Continue reading Patience
She wanted to experience the most intense desire possible, to be utterly tortured with pleasure; she was going to get it. Restrained entirely to lock her into this prison of ecstasy, she could only shudder and writhe in response to the constant vibration radiating throughout her sex. The tape over her eyes kept her focused solely on the sounds of the earphones, the continuous sounds of pleasure, which further added to the torment. All she could do was picture the source of such sounds; women masturbating to long desired orgasms, men thrusting themselves deep into those hot wet little pussies until the soft slapping sounds of hard penetration unleashed their longings.
The tape over her mouth, however, made the ordeal much crueller. While she could not plead or beg, even her moans were to be locked away. Any time she moaned or made any sound of pleasure, the vibrator was taken away just enough for the welling orgasm to recede before being placed back on her frustrated pussy. Being completely unaware of her surroundings and shielded from the external sounds due to the tape and the earphones, keeping herself in check was even harder, causing the occasional whimper of pleasure to spill forth. This, of course, meant her orgasm was itself prevented from spilling forth. Being so sensitive to the intensity of the vibrator, made even more fierce by the unspeakably erotic situation with which she was helplessly captive, the cycle seemed to never end. Finally, she had experienced the pleasure she had so yearned for, to be brought to the pinnacle of what she could handle, the utmost frustration of edging and denial. Though now she could not speak out or scream that it was too much, that she’d reached her limit, she was forced to endure it for so much longer than she ever thought possible.
“As you can both see, the combination of the restraints and having us all present at once elicits much more intense physical and verbal responses. She had come to us seeking aid in achieving orgasm, as she had been unable to do so with another person present. However, there seems to be no such issue as I have been able to repeatedly bring her to the verge of climax with stimulation through vibration. Patience was the only real factor that needed to be addressed. If either of you is wondering, the reason why I haven’t made her actually orgasm yet is so that the moment can be heightened as much as possible. She has been begging for quite some time now. We’ll keep this going until she truly cannot take any more, then she’ll truly experience an orgasm unlike any other. I suggest we try and see if we can force her to endure more after that.
I’m sorry, my dear. No matter how much you beg it, won’t make any difference.”
Content created by: PleasureTorture
Image source: realtickling (linkable source unknown)
Ticked, teased and tormented with pleasure while helplessly restrained.
A video tease session involving orgasm denial and and a little post orgasm torture.
Content created by: PleasureTorture
Sleep was the last bastion of relief. This was no longer the case.
You’d always feel my demonic presence in your bedroom. I would see you looking up and around so often, sensing me but never seeing me. I’d wrap those coils of lust around you daily, teasing you every time you entered and not letting go. The fetching attire you’d strip down to, fueling my desire to torment you further. Those racing fingertips, unable to bring yourself beyond the pinnacle. My prisoner of passion. So many times you writhed and begged, hoping and praying that I’d relent and show you some mercy and lift the curse. Little did you know that those whimpers and screams for mercy sealed your fate further, ensuring I’d make this place my home for many years.
Continue reading Demon in the Ceiling
If they both knew how much they’d be internally screaming out with need for an orgasm, they would never have denied themselves throughout November. It seems foolish now to have passed on the opportunity to masturbate when these skilled hands tormented them beyond reason.
The man’s entire body was already tingling with anticipation when he had first arrived; his mind was too focused on the pleasure to come to pay much attention to the second massage table in the room. He was asked to undress and lie on his back. The moment he stripped and laid down, the masseuse instantly returned and began caressing his upper body. His lower body remained covered by a towel. Even though the masseuse’s warm, oil-coated hands massaged only his shoulders and chest, his length instantly began to stir. The month of abstinence – two months total without a full orgasm – meant that all he could think of was the masseuse’s hands reaching under to stroke his cock. Just thinking of her stroking him, sucking him and riding him instantly sent a surge through to his manhood. He wanted her to whisper to him that she was going to fuck him, to impale herself on him, that knowing how desperate to come he was made her wet just thinking about, and how it aroused her to fuck men in this state.
Instead of fulfilling his fantasies right away, the masseuse simply continued to massage him wordlessly. Even the previous sexual audio, which filled the room with moans and cries of ecstasy, was absent.
Just as he began to wonder why things were so different and why the masseuse’s previous accomplice wasn’t present, another person entered the room, followed by the accomplice.
Continue reading The Masseuse (Part III)
Another person’s fingertips trailing over her body is all she craved. She’d happily give up a month of masturbation in order to feel the sensations she had enjoyed at the massage parlour. The prospect of submitting to the stimulation in that way, with every touch and every caress focused solely on her, was too enticing to pass up.
The ruined orgasm played on her mind throughout November. For the first couple of weeks, she focused on the frustration, how her pussy convulsed in longing for so much more and how the sense of emptiness that the ruined orgasm brought remained with her. She wanted those cruel fingertips back where they were, teasing her clitoris and penetrating her intensely, squeezing around them as if it were her body pleading for them not to stop fucking her.
For the last couple of weeks in November, she instead focused on the joy that even the ruined orgasm brought. The sensation of pleasure lifted to the surface, and the jolts of ecstasy that slipped through the cracks of frustration.
Continue reading The Masseuse (Her November)