It Started So Playfully…

It all started playfully enough, I hadn’t expected her to agree to be restrained, but all the teasing, all the sensuality of the moment, must have taken its toll.

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They keep him held on the brink over and over, that constant pulsating sensation shoots through his body, threatening to bring him to his knees, to buckle to their whim. What started as a pleasurable bet, an erotic challenge, has become an exercise on his will. He tries desperately not to beg for them to let him cum, to keep his hands behind him and withstand it until they tire, yet every ounce of willpower seems to be directed at simply not letting his legs give way.

They feel that swollen length twitch against their mouths, bringing warmth within from simply imagining how it must feel, to have these inches of your body licked and teased to the brink over and over again. It almost makes them shiver in pleasure at the thought. Their soft lips press along his throbbing manhood, delighting in the pulse of it against their tongues. It lets them know that even though it isn’t enough to push him into orgasm, it is enough to keep him praying for it.

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Image source from: DigitalSin

Two Participants

The soothing hum of an air conditioner drifts through the office, filling the void of the girl’s hesitation at the question.“No, not for over two years,” she finally responds.
The interviewer makes a note. “Any encounters within this period?”

“…Yeah,” follows the pause.

“If you care to say so, roughly, how recently was this?”

A rustling of paperwork fills the moment’s silence as the young woman averts her gaze.

“It was – um, about …uh, 4 months ago.”

“Lastly, have you been looking for any further partners recently?” the interviewer asks softly, making sure not to offend or embarrass the gentle looking girl before him.

Lifting her deep blue eyes to his, she firmly states, “No, just enjoying my independence,” before giving a warm smile.

The interviewer smiles back and turns off the sound recorder on his desk which separates them both in the spacious, finely decorated office room. Laying down his notes methodically, he addresses the girl.

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Her Sweet Torment

Helplessly, all she could do was give in to the desires ceaselessly coursing through her body. Restrained and blindfolded, even the slightest touch from our fingertips sent a surge throughout. Never had her pleasure been so out of her own hands, to be so out of her own control.

We kept her on the edge for what felt like hours, never giving the mercy she pleaded for. Relentlessly tortured, as however much she screamed in pleasure, it was never enough to satisfy our desires.

As the wand pulled away, she begged for more until the moment that pulsing vibration settled between her legs once again, taking her breath away. Arching her back, tensing her body, hoping that this will be the moment… but again, her torment continued.

Continue reading Her Sweet Torment

It isn’t merely the act itself that keeps you dripping with arousal, it’s knowing that you are the centre of our attention, the focal point of our lust and desire. That is why we haven’t let you climax quite yet. We want to keep you right at the point that we enjoy most, the moment where your own attention is on the same thing as ours, your pleasure. Where your orgasm is all your mind can focus on, the inescapable need. It keeps your pussy so wet, your clitoris so sensitive, and your moans so sweet. 

I just love when you don’t know which one of us you should beg to, which one of us might say the word you crave, ‘Come’.

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Image source from: New Sensations

Enjoying His Work

If she knew what he really was, she’d have run long ago. A being from a world that see’s humankind as toys to play with. A being possessing powers beyond human comprehension. A being that takes pure joy in deriving torture from pleasure.

It was the sensitivity within her body he could read that drew him to her as much as her beauty. Once he honed in on her at the club, there would be no way she could ignore that seductive gaze, an aura that seemed to hypnotize her.

Every part of her skin he touched seemed to light a fire of desire in that exact spot. She needed so much more. The more of her he touched, the more it seemed to intensify, like an electric surge of pleasure constantly sizzling throughout. It was like a magic touch; if only she knew. All she knew was that she needed him to touch her everywhere, to be inside her. At first she felt like the one in control, just as he wanted her to feel. When he was inside her, it was as if every fantasy in her life, every wet dream and sexual desire, had all built up to this moment as if preparing her for the ultimate pleasure.

His length seemed as if it were the only thing her pussy would ever need. No other man, no other toy or vibrator had even come close to penetrating her or hitting that spot the way this was.  The moment she was close however, was when something felt strange. The millisecond before her orgasm took hold of her, he pulled out. Yet instead of it stopping, the pleasure seemed to trap her. It still felt as if he were inside her, every inch pressing perfectly against her every sensitivity. She could not fathom what was happening, yet she couldn’t move or make a sound. Not because of any further spell by him, but because the sensation she was feeling was incomprehensible. Not even a minute passed before it was an unbearable hell. He had trapped her at the moment of climax, locked within that final convulsion before the pure joy was unleashed.

He simply sat and watched, enjoying his work. This was what he took such delight in, seeing human females brought to realms of unbearable pleasure. While gazing at this beautiful sight, he’d have told her that he may keep this going for hours if he desired, though she was too trapped within her hellish mixture of rapture and agony to hear or respond to anything. A minute hadn’t even passed, yet she was already in tears from this horrific limbo of denial and orgasm. It was like being forced to orgasm constantly, though without there being a true beginning or ending to the orgasm itself. That first single climactic surge, frozen in time.

It wouldn’t end until he penetrated her again. He was in no rush. This time of year, when his kind could roam freely around humans, only came for a few short weeks. He was going to make the most of it.

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Image source from: Babes.com

They Will Return

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, 7 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 they touched her. 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, tantalised 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, 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 was 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 to 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.

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Image source from: Evil Angel

The Trapped Man

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.

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Image source from: PrimalFetish

University of Erotic Artistry

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.

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Image source: Zazel