"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".
They had learned many new incantations from the sex education classes, but this small group knew that there must be a genre of spells harvested from the dark arts to also try out… and so they were right.
The restricted area of the library was a treasure trove of wicked delights, though one book stood out, ‘The Darkest Arts – Sex Hexes Most Tormenting’. They were cautious at first, yet upon closer inspection they realised just what kind of spells they were dealing with. They wanted to see them in action; they’d only be able to master them with plenty of practice.
I stand here before you, watching you sway in the rhythm of your sexual longing. My words seem to still be echoing in your mind, telling you just how to masturbate yourself, making sure not to push you over the edge. I love thinking how it must feel, to realise that if simply masturbating to the brink and stopping could feel so intense, intense enough to start begging me for mercy, just how will it feel for you once I take over. I’ve seen you at your most intimate, I know just how far I can push you.
“Again,” I command as you beg once more, taken to the limit of what your own touch can provide. Your waist bounces rapidly to the strum of your fingers, making my cock tense for a moment as I imagine what it would be like to feel you right now. To feel how your pussy must be convulsing after being nearly granted the climax that has been tantalising it for some time now. It takes all my willpower to not leap towards your tensing body, enticed so much by the little trail of your pussy juice which drips from your tender apex. Watching your arousal build to a visible trail of pleasure has kept me yearning to do so much more to you, but patience always yields the sweetest results.
The soothing hum of an air conditioner drifts through the office, filling the void of the girl’s hesitation at the question.“No, not for over two years,” she finally responds. The interviewer makes a note. “Any encounters within this period?”
“…Yeah,” follows the pause.
“If you care to say so, roughly, how recently was this?”
A rustling of paperwork fills the moment’s silence as the young woman averts her gaze.
“It was – um, about …uh, 4 months ago.”
“Lastly, have you been looking for any further partners recently?” the interviewer asks softly, making sure not to offend or embarrass the gentle looking girl before him.
Lifting her deep blue eyes to his, she firmly states, “No, just enjoying my independence,” before giving a warm smile.
The interviewer smiles back and turns off the sound recorder on his desk which separates them both in the spacious, finely decorated office room. Laying down his notes methodically, he addresses the girl.
If she knew what he really was, she’d have run long ago. A being from a world that see’s humankind as toys to play with. A being possessing powers beyond human comprehension. A being that takes pure joy in deriving torture from pleasure.
It was the sensitivity within her body he could read that drew him to her as much as her beauty. Once he honed in on her at the club, there would be no way she could ignore that seductive gaze, an aura that seemed to hypnotize her.
Every part of her skin he touched seemed to light a fire of desire in that exact spot. She needed so much more. The more of her he touched, the more it seemed to intensify, like an electric surge of pleasure constantly sizzling throughout. It was like a magic touch; if only she knew. All she knew was that she needed him to touch her everywhere, to be inside her. At first she felt like the one in control, just as he wanted her to feel. When he was inside her, it was as if every fantasy in her life, every wet dream and sexual desire, had all built up to this moment as if preparing her for the ultimate pleasure.
His length seemed as if it were the only thing her pussy would ever need. No other man, no other toy or vibrator had even come close to penetrating her or hitting that spot the way this was. The moment she was close however, was when something felt strange. The millisecond before her orgasm took hold of her, he pulled out. Yet instead of it stopping, the pleasure seemed to trap her. It still felt as if he were inside her, every inch pressing perfectly against her every sensitivity. She could not fathom what was happening, yet she couldn’t move or make a sound. Not because of any further spell by him, but because the sensation she was feeling was incomprehensible. Not even a minute passed before it was an unbearable hell. He had trapped her at the moment of climax, locked within that final convulsion before the pure joy was unleashed.
He simply sat and watched, enjoying his work. This was what he took such delight in, seeing human females brought to realms of unbearable pleasure. While gazing at this beautiful sight, he’d have told her that he may keep this going for hours if he desired, though she was too trapped within her hellish mixture of rapture and agony to hear or respond to anything. A minute hadn’t even passed, yet she was already in tears from this horrific limbo of denial and orgasm. It was like being forced to orgasm constantly, though without there being a true beginning or ending to the orgasm itself. That first single climactic surge, frozen in time.
It wouldn’t end until he penetrated her again. He was in no rush. This time of year, when his kind could roam freely around humans, only came for a few short weeks. He was going to make the most of it.
Overcome by a sudden urge to pleasure herself, Melissa stripped and began stroking her sensitive pussy like her life depended on it. Even though it usually took a while for her to get into things and start to get close, this time it seemed like the flames of orgasm were rising within the very moment her fingers swept over her delicate mound. She couldn’t believe how wet she was, yet there was no time to ponder what had caused this outburst of desire, all that mattered was that she came.
It was mere seconds for her to feel ready to come. Minutes soon passed. Still there was no end, as if she were trapped in that same cycle of arousal with no outlet. No matter how fast she stroked or how intently her fingers pressed, whether she slid inside or just honed in on her clitoris, Melissa could not overcome the pinnacle. The more she tried, the more she needed it, like a well of pleasure with no limit to what it could hold. She had no idea how long she had been masturbating, but tears of frustration began to form. It soon seemed as if every sexual scenario and erotic fantasy had been cycled through her mind. Nothing seemed enough to tip her over the edge.
It was too intense of a need to give up, yet when she decided to try and have a moment of rest, to see if a break would help, that was when she realised that she couldn’t stop. As hard as she tried, her hands would not pull away. Over and over she willed herself to relent, all to be met with the same constant friction against her engorged clitoris. It must have been an hour of being held in this state, sweat lining her body and her pussy dripping a constant stream of arousal. Once she had given in however, when it wouldn’t have mattered if the entire neighborhood walked in on her and watched, that the words formed in her mind.
“Such a luscious feast to delight in. Do not fight against it Melissa, as I will reward you with that which you crave.”
The voice seemed distant, yet it was whispered to her as if a thought within her own mind. While her eyes remained closed, Melissa could feel a presence above her, a presence which seemed to communicate with her own thought.
“Yes, I am controlling your every movement and sensation. No, begging will not help you. You will not come, Melissa, until your pleasure has satisfied my appetite. I have not fed in quite some time. Patience.”
With that, her arms and legs were spread out as if entrapped by restraints. While her own contact with her sopping wet pussy had ceased, the pulsating sensation of being on the brink did not. Neither did the constant contractions of need or the twitching of her swollen clit. This Being which Melissa could not see was able to read her every thought, thus sensing every minute sensation. It was these pleasures that it fed on; tonight it was going to gorge on her. By not letting her come, it could take all the time it wanted. Letting the pleasure seep as if whetting its appetite, suckling on every drip of sensation like it were lapping away at the torrent of her flowing pussy juices.
Honing in on her deepest fantasies, the feeling of multiple hands massaged every inch of her body. Always stopping just a hair’s breadth away from the sensitive spots that needed to be touched most. Her nipples, which soon were screaming for attention, soon got what they needed once the possibility arose of her coming down from the highest points of frustration. Keeping her so close to the edge without relief, a pull on her nipples made her arch in shock. The Being could read everything her body needed to stay centered on the verge of orgasm. What felt like tiny tendrils snaked around her nipples like a lasso trapping them, pulling ever tighter when she became accustomed to the sensation. Suddenly, what could only be perceived as an oil dipped paintbrush, or even wet silk, was slipping over the tips of those painfully stiff nipples. Melissa cried out loudly, partly at what could be felt right then, but also at the thought of how horrifyingly wonderful this would feel on her clitoris. She wondered for a moment that there would be no way it could stop her from coming then, maybe even the chance to will herself to climax.
“Do not underestimate me, foolish girl.”
At that moment her clitoral hood was peeled back even further to expose the entirety of that tender morsel. Melissa then let out a scream that seemed to never cease, wailing into the blank void until she couldn’t tell whether the screams and whimpers were being vocalised or just in her head. All caused by the feeling of a single tendril wrapping around her exposed clitoris and kneading it constantly. She could not believe that she wasn’t coming just after the first second of this torment. The telepathic being was able to keep her in this state, for as long as it wished to feed, with no mental or physical harm. After hours of this torture, it was ready to enjoy the main course.
“Such a delicacy.”
Melissa wasn’t able to tell the difference whether the sensations were physical or just implanted through her mind, yet when a tentacle plunged within her depths, the reaction was the same. Every inch of her body seemed to freeze in shock as the orgasm was thrust upon her with no warning. The tentacle itself was covered in nubs that vibrated within, pressing against just the right places. It twisted and writhed within her in ways that made her body erupt. This was clearly not about simulating sex, this was all about bringing her to heights that would have made any other human faint if not for this thing keeping her constantly awake and aware. To keep itself fed, it was not going to ever let Melissa have the mercy of unconsciousness. The being fed on her pleasure joyously, her climax a most fulfilling feast. It made her come again, then again, until she could not even think. A world populated by nothing but the most intense of pleasures. Every time it seemed like the sensations would cease a little, The Being switched its methods, changing from caressing her nipples and clitoris to sucking them within silky wet mouths. Pinching, tweaking, thrusting and massaging, always stimulating and never subsiding.
“I think I’ll be full in a few hours.”
Even through the confines of her orgasmic hell, it made sure Melissa understood precisely how long she’d have to endure this.
The time had come. There was nowhere she could hide. The moment she set forth to try and run, they appeared, as if they had been waiting all along. Just like every year.
She remembered the first time, 7 years ago, how the women had appeared. Somehow her dreams had prepared her, as if these spirits were communicating with her, yet it was still a shock when they touched her. How the light touches became more intense fondling, letting her realise that this was no dream. The way they teased her, aroused her until she didn’t care about the madness of the situation, fear had long since passed and given way to desire, tantalised her body until all she could think about was the orgasm she craved. Finally they had made her come, then again and again. Luckily, that first time, they stopped before it became too much to take. Yet it was the whispers she had heard after that always came back to haunt her every year.
“Every year on October 31st we shall return, and every year, we shall tease you twice as much as the last. Every year we will make you orgasm twice as much as the last. Every year, we will enjoy you twice as much”.
On the 4th year she tried to run by staying in a hotel, yet still they came to her. It made no difference, they were latched onto their prey and they would not relent.
She had thought about this night for almost every day of the year, a mixture of arousal and terror. Last year had been unbearable. How they had teased her so cruelly, for so long, keeping her on the brink constantly all while she had begged and screamed for them to please let her come. Yet their calculated touches and eager mouths seemed to indulge in the responses. It made it so much worse that they never said a word to her. No matter how much she cried out or told them that she’d do anything, there was no response at all. The only thing they would ever say, just the same as every year, was at the end, when they’d repeat that next year she’ll get twice as much as the last. Even as tears of pure frustration lined her cheeks, they still never said a word. Her body was their only focus. Over the years she had tried to train herself to handle what would come. Edging herself during her private moments of play, asking lovers to keep her from coming for as long as possible, none of it helped. No matter how much she tried, there was no way to handle the level of extremes they took it to. Last year they kept her on the edge for so long that she thought she were trapped in a nightmare. All she could do was weep for mercy.
Once they had finally let her come, it should have been a relief, yet she knew what was in store. Their intense manhandling of her did not stop. The way they devoured her pussy, sucking her clitoris as if they always wanted her to know that to them, pleasure should be its own form of agony. If only they would have stopped for just a second, just to let her bask in the warmth of her desperately needed orgasm. Instead it was just one screaming orgasm onto another. They were always able to find new ways to bring her to a shuddering climax. Their fingers seemed to be able to map the most sensitive parts of her pussy, exploring her in ways no one else, including herself, could ever accomplish. Their silence and their smiles, always so cruel. Originally she had wondered if they could not understand her, if the words they repeated each year was the only thing they could say. Yet every time she had told them that she was going to come, they understood enough to suddenly go faster.
In the first year, the pleasure was heavenly, a gift. For the recent few years however, it was hellish. Last year it was nothing short of torture; she remembered passing out more than once, yet each time when she came to, they started again, forcing her to orgasm repeatedly.
Usually she would dream of what they would do, the way their hands cupped her chest, the way their tongues flickered along her nipples, how their mouths and fingers felt when delving to her dripping wet pussy. Yet during the weeks leading up to this Halloween night, she had simply been dreaming of the way she had screamed last year, the ways she had begged with them for mercy and how it all went unheeded.
She couldn’t take it last year, yet this year would be twice as much torture. She was terrified of what that would feel like, there was no way she could handle it, yet there was nowhere to run or hide. They were here.
“Welcome Andrea my dear, please come in. I am Dr Wand; we have been expecting you!”
The voice was warm, welcoming, enough to put Andrea at ease. The apprehension of turning up to such an isolated clinic was nearly enough to have prevented the usually carefree girl from taking advantage of such an opportunity. A two week vacation to anywhere in the world just to try on a new prototype bra sounded almost too good to be true, but seeing the small group of researchers spread around the room, some obscured by computer screens, others looking up at her in the doorway, all dressed in white lab coats and looking busy, it all felt so much more legitimate.
‘Just remember…two weeks in the French Polynesia islands,’ she kept reminding herself, to make her go through with it.
A sharp intake of breath, the prickling shock of realization; Laura had regained consciousness as if torn from the comfort of sleep by the stark horror of reality. From the moment she’d regained her senses, her mind had been racing to make sense of the predicament she found herself in. Laura squinted, the light piercing her vision until she adjusted to the brightly lit room, a sight which both mystified and terrified her. The room was small and bare, surrounded with mirrors which seemed to shine upon the young girl who was bound in the middle of it. Arms hanging from the ceiling, her wrists cuffed together while her legs were spread apart, feet flat on the warm carpeted floor as her ankles had been cuffed and pulled wide apart, leaving little room for movement.
“Please, where am I?” Laura called to no response, struggling to raise her voice as her head swam, the effects of the drug still lingering. She looked at herself in disbelief, feeling so small as the room seemed to engulf her, every angle of her slender frame displayed. How many times she had fantasised about being in such a situation, almost admiring the view as she hung there, spread helplessly, pale blue bra and panties clinging to such a delicate, petite frame. ‘But not like this,’ she thought to herself, snapping back to the gravity of the situation, trying in vain to free herself.
Suddenly, a movement, the slow idle rattle of a turning doorknob, before one of the mirrors in a corner of the room swung forward to reveal an opening. Like the entrance to a house of mirrors, except all of these mirrors were displaying but one attraction.