You play with yourself at the thought of what those warnings could mean – touching and teasing while thinking of being dressed in that skin-tight outfit. Even if nothing came of the warnings – if no entity apprehended you in order to sexually torment you just like in your fantasies – the thought of what others would want to do to you arouses you.

You imagine the material of your costume clinging so tightly against your body, wondering whether you’ll wear anything under it. You picture how it will look to others, seeing those delicate curves hugged by the material like a second skin. You know that they’d be looking at you, wanting to touch you, knowing that against the material, you’d feel their fingertips almost the same way against the outfit as you feel right now.

There are so many scenarios you could picture yourself in as you bring yourself to climax. Being apprehended by whatever the warnings are about, or perhaps feeling the touch of another, having seduced someone at the Halloween party. Or perhaps, simply returning to your bed afterwards and masturbating while in the outfit. Every situation turns you on; you want to spend the whole night vividly imagining each of them. Yet, with how sensitive and aroused you are, it won’t take long until you can’t contain the pleasure any more.

The strength of your fantasies will always dictate the strength of your orgasm.

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I know how it feels, being in your position, being restrained and helpless. How it lets you focus on the overwhelming sensations between your legs, that build-up which consumes you, knowing that release in every sense is at my discretion.

I understand you want to see me riding you, yet I also know that the fantasy in your mind adds another layer of torment, imagining the smile as I look down and see the utter desperation your mouth tries to convey.

I know that you want me to be as cruel as possible, to ensure that every motion of my body feels destined to prolong your pleasure until you feel like mercy is beyond reach, until you feel like even begging me would simply elicit laughter, the kind of laughter that sends a shiver of erotic longing through your spine.

What I don’t understand, however, is just how it feels to need to thrust upwards, to feel several inches of your body literally throbbing and pulsating with the need to drive deeper. I can’t comprehend the tightness and yearning within those balls, that external, gorgeous masculinity, to need to release the pent-up tide of orgasm. I don’t know how it feels to have this heat, this softness, this wetness, clenching around those aching inches slip up and down while fighting to hold back that white-hot gush.

That’s what makes it so much more erotic. I can imagine and understand what you feel, but I don’t truly know how your cock feels right now – yet I’m still going to prolong that sensual agony for as long as possible. That’s what keeps my body burning with arousal and what keeps me coming again and again, knowing that my joy is what makes your cock suffer just that little bit more.

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Anticipation: that tantalising, delicate tension in the air, the heartbeat fluttering in every motion, the prickling heat that first marks the inferno to soon engulf.


Anticipation is sexuality at its most primal, the moments before the fantasy of imagination meets the potency of reality.

A whisper of what could be. Until you finally feel its touch.

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Blindfold

Perhaps behind the blindfold, you imagine being on display, many surrounding you, so many hands and mouths teasing you as you sit helplessly.

Maybe you’re thinking of your latest fantasy while restrained, free within the confines of your mind to indulge in thoughts of being penetrated and explored so fiercely and thoroughly.

Feeling the restraints around your wrists and ankles, holding you in place, allows you to fantasise about being devoured while so confined. Fantasising about pulling on those cuffs while that mouth torments you so wonderfully, knowing it won’t stop no matter how much you strain and writhe.

You could even be thinking of being entirely untouched while others watch, simply basking in your exhibitionist fantasies as the same powerful vibration constantly chips away at your resolve. It is constantly just a little too much, yet you never want to give in. You never truly want it to stop, and the restraints help ensure you can’t out an end to it.

Or maybe you’re imagining being alone, no one else around, simply exploring yourself and letting the toy be the only thing between you and ecstasy. Your fantasies being fueled by the needs of your body, your need to traverse the heights of ecsatsy.

No matter what is running through your mind behind the blindfold, you’ll need to get used to the quivering, the orgasmic convulsion and the physicality of straining hard against those restraints while the vibrator stays in place. Regardless of what is on your mind, my goal is to compete with your imagination, and show you that me in reality wants to be far crueller to your pussy than whatever your imagination concocts.

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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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The preparation. Feeling every inch succumb, that mixture of softness and hardness, throbbing and pulsating. Getting it wet as if preparing it for your entrance, feeling it twitching in anticipation between your lips and imagining the feeling of it within your pussy. Every flicker of that tongue, each suction of that mouth, the constant slick gliding motion, hoping it feels as tortuously wonderful as you imagine. 

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Every little moan makes it somehow even stiffer, harder. You wonder if she can feel every pulse and twitch the same way you feel every convulsion of her pussy as she comes so intensely once again. You forget how many times you’ve reached the edge, how often you’ve come so close, that silky, slippery, wet little entrance caressing every inch so tightly. All you know for certain is that you won’t stop. As long as she can scream, she’ll take it. Every time she says she can’t come anymore, the next orgasm proves otherwise, which makes every hard thrust and little squeal of pleasure that much sweeter. 

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Uncertainty (5/5)

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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