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
