edging – Page 11 – PleasureTorture

Thirty-Minutes

Surely a video of somebody else, a doppelganger of your own quivering body, yet you know that it is yourself you are seeing, turning to the side and watching the footage on the screen as if watching a stranger writhing with need.

It is these short moments of rest that linger the most cruelly; you know by now that begging for them to give you what you need so badly will do nothing. You can merely turn and watch yourself from the angle of the recording, watching them zoom in and adjust the camera filming every moment of your blissful suffering. You have long since given up the struggle of pulling on the restraints; all efforts are focused on the pulsating desire within you.

You had agreed so naively, thinking it would simply be a little erotic fun to be filmed, thinking it would just be something arousing to masturbate to in future. The joy of having pleasure being focused on you, something that had been missing in your busy life and hectic schedule. Yet now that seems so long ago, never had you realised that this coursing pleasure would burn so deeply inside, never dying down, simply simmering within.

From the moment your hands were tied above your head, it seemed as if it was their goal to tease you to madness. Taking turns, they made sure there were always at least three pairs of hands touching you at all times. The way their fingertips and palms worked so slowly seemed to stimulate your body as if you had never been touched before in your life.

For half an hour, they tormented you, yet not even touching your nipples or clitoris until the final minutes. All the while, they whispered into your ears, telling you exactly what the cameras were showing, telling you just how delicate the movements of your body are as they started to brush and flicker over those most sensitive little peaks. In the last seconds, they finally brought you to the edge… then always left you alone, walking away behind the camera to leave you teetering cruelly on the pinnacle. One minute always passed, the camera picking up every display of uncontrollable longing, then another thirty minutes of relentless teasing… on and on until this point in time, where you feel as if your throbbing clitoris is the only thing in the room with a pulse.

They toy with you in unison, an orchestra of pleasure playing your body like an instrument, leaving you to watch yourself bucking your hips up and down with need, silently screaming for the climax. As you writhe in tortured pleasure, you think about what they had just whispered to you: that in one minute, you should keep your eyes on the screen to watch yourself as a mouth finally sucks against your clitoris. A shiver runs through you at the thought.

Any second now, a tongue will find the pulsating, agonising beauty of your tender cherry.

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Submission by: a-mind-full-of-dirt

Christmas Night

On the night of Christmas, she came to grant his wish, though it would last far beyond merely just the night. Awakened from such a gentle sleep, he was already fully strapped down and helpless for his dream situation. She said nothing; there was no need. Her touches would convey everything needed. Every year, she would fulfil a lucky man’s greatest desire.

Just the lightest touch from her felt like an electric shock of sheer ecstasy, so intense that he was almost worried how it would feel once she pressed her entire hand around it, or even her mouth. He’d soon find out, though, that her sexual power was far beyond what he’d ever have imagined, that there would be no way of coming until she willed it upon him, no matter how much he could take. When he started to beg and shout out for release, the only response he’d continue to be met with was that same lustful gaze. She could keep him safely erect for as long as she desired. That would be enough to communicate her intent.

After the hours passed, in those brief moments when he could think of anything except the unbearable need for the orgasm trapped away, in the spare few seconds not spent hopelessly pleading with her to let him come, he wondered whether to call her an angel… or a demon.

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Image source from: Klixen

Did you really think I would go any faster?

I remember you telling me how wonderful that slow build-up was, how intensely it made you come. That’s something I’ve been picturing ever since you first mentioned it, the way you must have shuddered in pleasure, the way your back must have arched while you convulsed in bliss. All while those soft bristles pressed so delicately to that tender clitoris. So much time was spent unsuccessfully trying to have that paintbrush press a little harder to that swollen jewel; finally, the speed and pressure were just enough to topple you over the edge of an orgasm.

I would love nothing more than to feel what it’s like, to have something so soft and delicate constantly teasing something so precious and sensitive. The way you moan, the way you writhe, the way you beg – I’ll use all of those to gauge just what it’s like now that I have you here. The restraints will show you just as much mercy as I will give: keeping you trapped within this realm of frustration.

I’m going to keep sweeping this brush back and forth until I know your body can not feel any more in need, until you’ve begged so much that you’ve lost all hope of mercy. These gentle strokes: not enough to let you come, but just enough to keep you teetering on that bring, to keep that climax constantly simmering. You can pull against the restraints as much as you want. I’m not speeding up. I love how your pussy seems to blossom for me, getting so swollen as those tender lips open up, trying to invite me to give it so much more, all while your clitoris pulses in desperate need. The perfect picture, one that I want to keep in sight for as long as possible.

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Submission by: Wanderlustworld2019

Drinking Games

Never had she expected that a little game they had played during a night out would come back to haunt her, yet here she was, tied spread-eagle to the bed at her housemate’s mercy.
”30 minutes for every guy who buys you a drink.’’
It hadn’t seemed too dangerous…

It’s a pattern I’ll repeat over and over again…

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Image source from: Denyherorgasm

The Mark

The mark of a believer, all the proof he needed that this girl was the one he was after. Having shared much company together, becoming comfortable enough to send one another more and more racy pictures, his patience had finally paid off. Finally, this mark on her arm signified what he had expected: this girl must know the whereabouts of the relics that the mark of the Deathly Hallows signified.

When he arrived at her house, he played it coolly at first. She was already waiting for him, stripped down to only her pretty white lingerie, her tattoo proudly displayed on her arm. His lust for her nearly overcame him, wanting to quell the desires she was so clearly displayed, yet he kept his mind on the task, ready for the right moment to reveal his true intent. Having spoken with her for a long time previously, he knew that she had been in a state of orgasmic abstinence, having wanted to make this moment so much more intense for herself; now, he was going to use this to his advantage. In such a state of longing, having spoken of finally meeting for a sexual encounter for a long time, she let him restrain her, shivering in anticipation of such pleasures he could give her while helplessly spread-eagled within the magical bonds.

He teased her with his fingertips, wanting to really work her up before revealing his true intentions. His tongue danced along her cleavage, down her body, trailing between her thighs, his nose pressing gently to the delicate plumpness nestled against the soft white cotton. His tongue then trailed back up her body to circle her nipples. Taking his wand out of his back pocket, he gave it a slight flick in the air; the movements of his tongue – slow circles around her stiffened peaks – seemed to continue without his physical presence there. She arched her back and moaned as the sensation of that tongue licking around her nipples continued, a ghosting effect which did not stop. She told him to hurry up – that she wanted more, yet still, he took things slowly. With a trace of the wand down the slit of her sex, so visible beneath the thin lingerie, he made her pussy tingle with intense arousal as the sensation of a single fingertip stroking up and down continued… again without his physical contact.

It was only then that he told her why he was here, that he wanted the whereabouts of the Deathly Hallows. She thought he was joking at first, unable to suppress a moan as her body continued to pulse with need. In response, the man – now sitting between her legs – simply flicked his wand again in the air and muttered something she could not hear. With another flick, the speed of the movements of licking and stoking to her body increased, bringing so much pleasure yet nowhere near enough to give the orgasm she had gone without for nearly three weeks. He repeated his question. This time the writhing girl simply told him she did not have any idea, and that she merely is fascinated by them, before sighing in pleasure. Unfortunately for the helpless girl, he did not believe her.

With a swipe of his wand, her lingerie, which was soaked with her arousal, tore to pieces. He knelt forward and began to tease her sex with his tongue, replacing the sensation of being stroked. Up and down, that tongue slipped, tracing the softness of her swollen pussy lips, teasing the stiffened little nub of her clitoris. Only when she started begging for him to let her come, urging him that she truly didn’t know anything more about the Hallows, did he turn up the heat.

A murmur and a swish of the wand, then finally his mouth clamped to her sex, eating her out fiercely… yet something was different. Even though she was in so much need of this after the duration of abstinence, the sensation was still so much more intense than she had ever experienced from someone going down on her. As he sucked and licked, feasting on her pussy like it gave him strength, she realised that the sensations seemed to increase every moment, yet still she would not come.

It became too much for her, yet there was no escape. As much as she begged and strained against the ropes, it would not stop. She only stopped screaming for her orgasm when he suddenly stopped and spoke, though even with his lips removed, the feeling of him devouring her pussy continued. With a cruel smile, he told her that a spell had been cast on her that would prevent any orgasm until it was lifted by him. He had also then placed a charm on her body that would cause a rippling effect from any stimulation applied; the feeling of his tongue on her pussy would repeat itself, with any further stimulation also repeating itself, causing his bout of feasting on her pussy to have resulted in a tidal wave of non-stop pleasure. This, combined with her inability to climax, resulted in the excruciating torment of being unable to orgasm from the kind of pleasure that would have had her coming over and over again in seconds. She was trapped between two spells which were causing her unbearable pleasure beyond any realms she had thought possible.

No matter how much she begged and screamed that she knew nothing of the whereabouts of the Hallows, he would not relent. She could barely form words through the constant torture as he simply watched her body convulse on the constant brink of an orgasm which would not arrive. He did not tire of this display of beautiful agony, casting further spells to perhaps make her give in: a spell that made her clitoris vibrate constantly, a spell that made her feel like her g-spot was being sucked directly, all while the sensations of being eaten out intensely continued to amplify across her dripping wet, engorged red sex.

Only when he finally cast a spell of pure pleasure on her, the direct opposite of the Cruciatus curse, did he realise she couldn’t possibly know. After all that teasing and torment, the feeling of a curse that would instantly make her climax, yet not being able to, took her breath away. When he stopped to let her breathe, and she still did not give him the answer he wanted, he knew she could not possibly know a thing about the Hallows’ locations. Nobody could handle such an onslaught of agonising pleasure without giving in; he knew that from experience. He still, however, used the curse on her for another long while, enjoying the look of tortured ecstasy on her face, those wonderful desperate pleas for mercy. The dual torment of unrelenting pleasure and the inability to climax, such an exquisite feast of over-stimulation.

Little did she know that through all of this, one more surprise lay in store; once he removed the spell to allow her to orgasm, all of the orgasms that had been denied will have stored up, ready to be unleashed on her in succession. Once the cruel man had taken his fill in denying her further, she was going to have to endure a constant stream of orgasms without rest. He wondered just how many times she had been denied an orgasm throughout all of this. The thought made him smile as he uttered the incantation.

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Submission by: realitykilledtherunway

Tendrils

Waking in the brightly lit cell, she had no idea where she was or how she had come to be here. An alien abduction? Kidnapped by scientists? There was no telling. All she could recall was last being in her room masturbating, having brought herself to the edge multiple times before finally about to give in to her overflowing need. Suddenly, everything went black: then she was here, her body still glowing with the unfulfilled promise of release.

She was only half conscious of the surroundings, feeling lost in a hazy limbo, unable to even fully notice the mechanical tendrils that were wrapping themselves around her limbs. Only when the creeping tentacles crawled down within her underwear did she seem to regain herself, though it was too late to do anything about it; now, the unknown tendrils were trapped within the confines of the material and against her delicate sex.

Haunted House (David)

Laying him down on the table was easy once the zombie nurses whispered to him that he was soon to experience the delights he had written down on the haunted house waiver. The thought of having his cock teased without him being able to stop it aroused him greatly. Once they laid him face down, his cock slipping through a hole in the table, he sensed what was to come, particularly when they strapped the cuffs around his waist, wrists and ankles to hold him helplessly in place.

David still had no idea where his friends were even after spending the last ten minutes searching for them through the maze of pitch-black corridors. He had welcomed the clutches of the performers once they found him, particularly once they started to strip him, though they never told him where the others were, no matter how much he quizzed them. Just as he felt something touch his exposed manhood, speakers began to play the moans and screams of the friends who had vanished. Those sounds alone aided the slight touches in stiffening his sensitive length.

Haunted House (Olivia)

As Olivia ventured deeper into the haunted house, she noticed that it seemed to start brimming with plant life, gorgeous flowers that seemed to breathe a new lease of life into what had been such a dark, claustrophobic setting. It was only when she entered a large, garden-like open space that she realised that she had unknowingly been separated from her friends. Before she had time to call back out to them, a group dressed as zombies sprang forth from the surrounding foliage and apprehended her. She had no time to react or even cry out for help as she was stripped naked and thrust onto a table at the centre of the thriving garden. The moment she was held down on it, she realised that the garden itself wasn’t simply a prop. It was pulsating with life; the greenery seemed to undulate as if breathing in and out. The movement above, with the rhythmic churning of branches and petals, almost hypnotised the naked girl for a moment, though the realisation that the hands were no longer what kept her held down brought her back to reality.

Hoping and Praying…

She lies there, hoping and praying that tonight will be any different, yet it is always the same. Time after time, the whispers drift throughout the room, soft as feathers, yet the effects strike like talons. Every night they tell her to open herself to the whims of that which cannot be seen, yet the touches are unmistakable.

No matter how much she questions the beings or speaks to them, no answers are given except for the same orders – to keep spread-eagled and motionless. Whatever these bodiless entities were, their power over the girl was beyond human comprehension. They would tease her body in ways no mortal could manage, though this is where the girl’s torment truly took hold. While they always ordered her to remain in the position, the delights wrought on her were always too much to endure; they kept bringing her to the edge of orgasm in ways her mind could not fathom, in ways which finally made her give in before they granted her the orgasm she craved. As soon as she moved, the beings vanished, leaving her wanting. The cruelty was that they always left her stuck in this state, making sure that she could not orgasm even under her own manipulations, sealing her orgasm off until they returned the next night… and the next… and the next.

She has lost count of how many nights it has been, yet still, they pay no heed to her begging and whimpering. They simply give the one single order and continue their work. No matter what she wears, the cloth is no barrier to them. It is as if her skin were moving and teasing itself. It has always been the same since the beginning. They always work so painfully slow, spreading warm sensations all over her body, yet when the attention hones onto her clitoris and nipples, she loses it.

Tonight her silken black underwear is no defence as usual – they assault her body with constant lingering touches. No matter how much she mentally prepares herself, her every nerve reacts to what feels like hundreds of fingertips darting between her thighs to seduce the wetness within. No matter how hard she clenches her fingers and how much she tenses every muscle in retaliation, her body is always overcome with horrifying ease.

She tries once again with all of her might to hold her composure, to not give in, to finally last until the sweet kiss of orgasm is granted, yet each day of being denied has taken its toll more and more, making the following day even harder still. Frustrated cries of desperation fill the room as her body arches, clutching at the bed in need. She knows it is helpless, left to experience another 24 hours of coping with the build-up of unreleased arousal.

She will have to go through it all over again. She prays that tomorrow night will yield what she wishes for most.