Tag: erotic

Holiday Haunting

Readings of a few short erotic-horror stories to excite and arouse. All stories focus on orgasm denial, with a couple containing elements of forced orgasm torment.

The stories included are:


They Will Return (0.00 – 6.57) The Being (6.58 – 15.45) The Trapped Man (15.46 – 18.25) Enjoying His Work (18.26 – End)

Soundgasm link (in case audio file does not work correctly).

Content created by: PleasureTorture

Female vocals by: AEisMe

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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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 ageing, 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.

Content created by: PleasureTorture

Image source from: PrimalFetish

Reading My Message

You read the message back while your fingertips idly tease yourself, all with the command at the back of your mind to not let yourself come. All you can do is hope that one of these days, when that need is too much, that I’d knock on the door and be there to stop you from going over, perhaps even to give you what you need right now.

How I described exactly what I’d do to you, all while seeing you standing there in those images, you know that’s the outfit that turns me on the most. It makes me want to torment you so much.

Telling you the things I want to do to you while you masturbate. The little cuffs connecting your lingerie, a little reminder of how I want you restrained, helpless to my desires.

Your fingers stroll up and down your body, teasing your cleavage until you are nearly about to tear open the top in order to finally pinch your nipples. They then lead down to your inner thighs before brushing along your exposed tenderness, tantalizing yourself until you want to scream for permission to unzip your thong.

If only reading my words more would allow my descriptions, and my actions, to materialize. The things I’d do to you right now. To simply peel down the top and let my fingers circle around your nipples, feeling the longing of those stiff peaks pulsing through to my touch. To let my mouth settle against your mound in order to let my tongue caress those plump, delicate lips. You’ve seen my videos, of course, knowing exactly how long I enjoy being down there, so much time having your pussy at the mercy of my mouth. Keeping your fingers just sliding back and forth along your pussy lips gets more frustrating, wanting so much to simply settle on that little spot, to move just a little more inward and give yourself some relief. But no, not yet, not while you continue reading my messages. How your muscles tense as I described just how much I enjoy sucking those lips, feeling how soft and smooth they are, the eroticism of being so close to your treasured little spot.

Reading those words again sends a little shiver through you: ‘good girl’, describing once again how pleased I am with your outfit. Your free hand claws at the bed, reading the next part. Imagining just how long I’d keep you spread-eagle on the bed, devouring the exposed parts of your sex, describing the little flicks of my tongue, the joy of feeling your thighs clench around me to tell me each time just doing this gets you close.

Finally, you let yourself get to the edge, slipping your finger along the centre, unable to cope while thinking of me whispering the next lines to you. How I’d want to tease your pussy so much that when you unzip the thong, just the feeling of my breath against your clitoris would be enough to make you come. It’s harder than ever trying to hold back.

Edging yourself over and over again, letting those waves recede before letting them crash back over you, threatening to drown you in such ecstasy. Too much to handle, you stop, ragged breaths escaping you as your body continues to tense. Finally, your muscles relax a little once the threat of climax subsides. Your pussy screams for more.

Suddenly there’s a knock at the door. You do not need to call out to know who it is. Your eyes widen, realising that I won’t be here to give your pussy the relief it yearns for. Instead, I will simply start the torture all over again. All with the cruelty of having to feel my own body use every means of making you scream in need.

Submitted to and written by: PleasureTorture

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 underway 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 sitting at a table, lightly adding the last details to a beautiful, intricate painting of female genitalia. Wondering how working on this painting was a punishment, the woman then turned to her and spoke.

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