"When you are pulling against the restraints… when your back is arched and your hips are writhing… when your mouth is open in a silent scream of tortured rapture… you will know that my work has begun".
Susan had explained to her colleague about her deepest desire one drunken night out, she’d forgotten all about it since then, until without warning it happened; subjected to the whim of two women who were hungry for her screams of pleasure, wanting to take advantage of her while she was alone at work.
Her work colleague had used the female forced orgasm service before when she herself was alone in the office, fondly recalling how rough they were with her, the way they made her endure orgasms far beyond what she could handle. Even though she had expected to be dominated by the people she’d paid to force pleasure so intensely upon her, it was still a shock to have her own body in the control of other women; she knew that was exactly what Susan needed. Susan was unwittingly about to experience just how these women relished the sight of another woman submitting to their techniques. There would be nobody visiting the office again until the next morning… it would be a long night of orgasmic torture for Susan.
Whether one of her subjects or one of her customers, Madame Fleurs slow, deliberate touches were always difficult to endure, though with her students she made sure they had to endure the most intensely erotic experience of their lives without faltering before she’d agree to take them under her wing. Her skills as a sensual, full body masseuse were highly sought, with many wishing to undertake her teachings, though few ever were able to endure the torturous entry test, to prove their mental and physical control by remaining still as possible throughout her lengthy massage demonstration. The way her hands cupped and caressed so delicately, knowing ever sensitive little spot to keep captive to her touch, it made it unbearable; an agonising pleasure that the masseuse knew how to manipulate and prolong as if time itself was under her command. While her customers were always granted the release they came to her for within the hour, her potential students were never granted such mercy. For nearly 2 hours they would always be kept teetering on that maddening brink. If they could last without begging for an orgasm or shifting position, she’d take them on as her apprentices, teaching the tantalising techniques of her erotic massages. Under her control, every second can feel like an hour.
To say she was suffering would be quite the understatement. Having agreed to participate in the drug trial which promised to net her a tidy little sum of money for what seemed to be quite an erotic experience, she had no idea that it would become this torturous.
While she fully understood that a drug would be administered to entirely debilitate her, rendering her unable to move, she did not expect this level of stimulation. When they had told her that they wanted to test her levels of sexual response while under the drug, she thought they’d meant some light touching and fondling for a few minutes; now that she’d been here for over an hour, she realised just how wrong she was.
Trapped within the near motionless prison that was her own body, she was only able to moan; no matter how much she tried, she could not scream out and beg for them to stop torturing her pussy with stimulation. Repeatedly the woman in charge of administering the stimulation finger-fucked her dripping wet opening and massaged her pulsating clitoris without relenting for even a moment. It hadn’t taken long for the tormented girl to realise that the drug not only inhibited any motion, it also prevented her from being able to climax. The rushing tide of orgasm seemed to ceaselessly push against the barriers of her sexual need for release to no avail, just constantly building without respite, making her body and mind feel ready to explode, unable to cope nor control it.
The test would be over once the drug wore off, which would be when her orgasm could finally tear free from the shackles of her drug-induced denial. It would be an orgasm that, once it arrived, would be enough to make her pass out, though sadly for her, it would be nearly another hour of tortured longing before such wonderful, much needed release.
When you were dancing with me in the club, you had no idea that I’d be the thrill you were seeking. When I asked you what your name was, did you ever expect that you’d be crying out mine while I took you with such animalistic ferocity? When our hips swayed to the music on the dance-floor, did you possibly imagine that I’d be fucking you so relentlessly while your wrists were bound helplessly just the way you like, my bedroom set-up to accommodate the kinky desires you relish in? When you first saw me looking so inconspicuous amongst the crowd, did you have any idea that I’d delight in making you come until you could take no more? I’m going to fuck you until I’m certain that you’ll never forget just what I can do to you.
To feel trapped, wedged within a world of ecstasy. Whichever way you push your hips, there is no escaping it even if you wanted to. What makes it so intense is knowing that there is no controlling it, that whatever you do or say, their lips and tongues will do all they can to crush your body beneath the pleasure.
Those words linger in your mind as you feel the tight embrace of the tie around your wrists. The thoughts race back through your mind of what you had pictured this experience to be, how you pictured giving up all control. You feel a deep surge of arousal course through the deepest regions of your sex as you wait for the toys to be presented to you, ready to be dominated. You wonder how long you will last, how much you’ll scream and beg once you are teased relentlessly; perhaps it will all be too much for you, though you know that won’t mean it will stop.
The scene plays out in segments in your mind as you lie waiting, feeling more helpless and turned on than ever before. You envision a paintbrush tracing around your clitoris, the thought alone makes your legs tense; though when you have that delicate clitoral hood peeled back to reveal that swollen little bud, you wonder whether you’ll be brought to tears from the cruel teasing. The closeness of your tight lingerie feels more evident now as you wait for them to soon be removed, knowing that your tender, wet pussy will be devoured, knowing your hips won’t stop rocking once it is. You expect to be able to handle what you are to endure, though something deep down within you hints – maybe even wishes – that you won’t be able to handle it. The thought that when the vibrations against your clitoris, the pinches on your nipples, the thrusts within your sensitive sex, are all unleashed upon you, the image of your will-power and control will be shattered entirely.
You envisioned being tortured with inescapable pleasure, now it will be a reality as your eyes convey what your body will soon understand, ‘I’m all yours’.
You had heard of the service they offered, always curious of how a Sybian would feel, to straddle something so powerful and unforgiving. The prospect of being able to book a session with not only a Sybian but also having someone there to aid you was like a dream come true.
After booking it online your heart was racing with excitement when the doorbell rang; an attractive man carrying both the Sybian vibrator and a large mirror had arrived. You realised what the mirror was for once you finally stripped and mounted the machine. Once he sat behind you and caressed your body while you gazed at yourself, you were ecstatic. It turned you on so much more to see yourself in such a state of ecstasy. Once you felt the immense power of the vibrations nestled deeply between your inner thighs, you were in heaven. Once his hands began to hold you firmly down, whispering that he’ll keep you held on it after every orgasm – even when you felt like you might not be able to take any more – you knew you were in for the ride of your life.