"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".
Tag: forced orgasm
“It’s not just simply about making you come, it’s about making you scream uncontrollably, about showing you that your pleasure belongs to us… If we just wanted to make you orgasm, we wouldn’t have needed to tie you up, this is about showing you just how much we can make you take. Just something like screaming, no matter how loud, will not stop us; once you understand that, you’ll realise that this is going to be a long, intense night for you.”
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.
“If I was to tell you that I’m still going to make you orgasm another 10 times, no matter how often those tears of over-stimulation roll down your cheeks, would it make it easier to take, or harder?”
She had wanted to explore so much with him, the promise of being restrained more securely than she’d ever experienced was too enticing to pass. Having a friend who understood her needs seemed like a blessing; it turned out that having him know her needs so well would be more like a curse.
They had planned to explore her desires for pain and pleasure, though when the first attempts at pain, inflicting little elastic band induced slaps against her feet, turned out to not be to her liking, his only other avenue was pleasure. While he instantly stopped when she signalled that she wasn’t into painful play, he certainly had no intention to stop when her orgasms became too much. The arousal caused from being rendered so helpless and exposed made her body so instantly susceptible to being completely overcome with pleasure. It only took a few seconds for his fingers and the vibrator to bring her to orgasm, though the whole idea was to fully explore the limits of her pleasure, and he knew that she truly wanted to have those limits entirely tested, no matter how much she begged him to stop. The more her tears of orgasmic torture streamed from her eyes, the more she screamed in overwhelming pleasure, the more he wanted to make her endure the orgasms.
“I wonder how much more intense the situation feels now that you realise that I intend to make you come until you pass out?”
Whether a dream or reality, the outcome would be the same regardless. All you can focus on is the pleasure, that is all your world consists of right now. You want to open your eyes, but you are too relaxed to do so, your body is in the ultimate bliss of complete relaxation, a perfect position to easily be overcome. The hands caress you in every way you desire, focusing exactly on where you want them to touch. Intense enough to fulfil your every fantasy of being manhandled and dominated by multiple people, though gentle enough to make you want more and more, to keep you on that constant incline of arousal.
They feel like every hand that has ever sexually caressed you, the hand of every person who has ever desired you, all just a little rougher than how you yourself would have played, making it all that much more erotic. Every pinch, every tweak and grasp, every poke and stroke, all managing to touch something much deeper than merely the surface of your body. Once they finally penetrate you, you feel like you have melted, a dripping wet mess of sensuality and lust. You feel every action as if it were in slow motion, dragging out every sensation until it is agonising in the most wonderful of ways. You feel every fold of your sex parting for those fingers, every nerve of your clitoris being set alight by those sweeping strokes.
Even though it had spent so long being built up, your orgasm feels like it won’t stop, all the while those hands play you so finely, like an instrument. You shiver and cry out in pleasure, clutching at one of the hands like it is a lifeline, though nothing stops. After so long, too long, you begin to come down from that vicious pleasure – though still nothing changes. Your body remains too relaxed to open your eyes, too much in a dreary haze to pull yourself from the grasps. As the hands continue to work you, exploring your pussy just as intently, you feel yourself becoming trapped between two minds; one wants it to keep going and never stop, the other knows that having more orgasms like that forced upon you would become torturous. With the way the hands have not stopped manipulating however, you won’t have a choice in the matter.
If you do well, you get rewarded; if you do badly, you get punished.
This was the simple, unwavering stance of the cheerleading team, yet still Sarah pleaded with all her heart for their forgiveness without having to endure what she feared. It had only been a simple matter of a misstep, yet on the field, in front of such a large audience, before the final game of the season, it was noticeable; ‘noticeable’ was more than reason enough to suffer the wraith of the team.
The coach and her two top cheerleaders always took much pleasure in giving the punishments, Sarah knew this all too well. The slightest mistake from any member would earn such cruel attention, yet Sarah seemed to be most regularly targeted by the coach and her chosen disciplinarians.
Barely any time after the night was over and the game had finished, Sarah was summoned into a section of the changing room that the coach had set up just for these occasions. No time was wasted as they stripped her, telling her that she knew why she needed this, why the team needed this. The familiar feeling of leather cuffs were fasted to her wrists, to be held up by the coach, while her legs were kept spread by the spreader-bar. It had been the biggest game of the season, the final match, to make a mistake under such scrutiny was unforgivable; they were going to make her come until she could not stand.
Sarah was wise enough now to hold no protest, yet still the desire to close herself to such intense stimulation was overbearing – though no matter how much she tried, they kept her body spread open for their wicked delights. The vibrator made little work of her attempts to halt what she knew would come, the maw of tortured pleasure that would ensnare her and never let go. Even before the first orgasm, the sensitivity of her sex against the devastating pulsations was nearly unbearable; once the orgasm hit her with all its force, she was thrown into a descent of hellish pleasure. They held her tight, making sure to give not even a second of remorse. No matter how much she begged and told them she could not come anymore, they worked her back towards another. Sarah felt as if her own body was forging an alliance against her, cruelly making her endure each orgasm after the other, each more unendurable than the last. Throughout every shudder of her limbs, through the constant convulsing of her body, the coach and her fellow punishers gave no respite, keeping Sarah held open for the vibrator to continue until either she passed out or her body could no longer give them the orgasms which they so longed to always see.
Sarah knew they would not stop, no matter how much she screamed through every orgasm and the following over-stimulation which always cruelly led to another; they loved seeing her tortured with pleasure. This was a punishment she’d not forget any time soon.
Wherever they had come from, those fetching panties that she had discovered in her drawer were going to inflict a night of passion upon her that she would never forget.
The silky softness of that tight little piece of fabric made her hunger for the touches against her sensuous mound; never in her most erotic dreams could she imagine that those panties would embody something which hungered for her just as much.
From the moment she put them on, she longed to caress her sex, the cool silk seemed to enhance every sensation, after mere seconds it seemed as if every nerve ending in her body had focused its attention to just that one space between her legs. The deep longing grew and grew until simply the slippery stroke of a fingertip was not nearly enough. She had felt the joy of being teased plenty of times before, yet this longing was unlike anything else, as if every passing second added an hour’s worth of tantalisation.
She removed the lingerie hastily, unaware that its spell had long been cast upon her body the moment they were worn, the moment they encased her sensitive womanhood.
Completely naked and exposed, she still felt the familiar sensation of the cool, soft silkiness clinging to her sex, though all her attention was on the uncontrollable longing which burned between her legs. Her fingers magnetised towards it, yet instead of the fulfilling comfort of masturbation, they were stopped. As if they were being held back, she could not push her hands any further down. No matter how much she tried to slide her fingers down to quench the fire raging within her sex, she was left held so cruelly close. While the unendurable longing did not seem to die down, her pussy seemed to be throbbing with more need by each second.
The tingling seemed to increase to a burning need, until moments later it was like she were trapped in the vice of an impending orgasm that wouldn’t come; still her pussy was inexplicably out of reach. Suddenly her arms were pulled back and came to rest above her head, pinned in place as if they were being held tightly. Just as fast, her pussy was embraced by sensations she could not explain or comprehend. Even while her pussy was bare, she could feel the familiar sensation of the silky material embracing her. This sensation seemed to combine with a stimulation of being touched by the softest of fingertips, of being licked by the most precise tongue, of being nibbled by the most eager mouth.
She thought her engorged mound would explode with need as repeatedly she was brought so close to orgasm and held there, before it backed off just enough to leave her hips thrusting for more. She wanted to touch herself, to touch anywhere, just to feel the soft curves of her heat stricken body; still she remained held in place, tormented to a state of craving that she had never thought possible. The constant writhing of her hips did nothing to increase the formless yet ever present and unyielding manipulations to her soft, delicate mound.
Finally, when she thought her consciousness could not stand any more of that tantalising torture, it happened. Her pussy felt like it had suddenly been devoured with pure stimulation, as if her entire sex were being sucked, every tiny detail and sensitivity of that swollen mound seemed to be being latched onto by the air itself. After so much time spent in the hell of denial, the sudden avalanche of suction was a heaven of orgasmic bliss. Her orgasm seemed to never end – she didn’t want it to, all she cared about was the unparalleled pleasure that confined her to the bed. Wave after wave of orgasm was sucked from her, the mixture of such long denial and the longing brought about by the lingerie kept fuelling the orgasmic fire. As if reading her mind, the sucking stopped, ceasing just as the almost painfully intense orgasms started to cross the line of being unbearable.
Once she was able to move her arms, she knew it was over. All was still and quiet in the room. Finally able to catch her breath, as if her lungs were also finally her own now, she simply lay there motionless, recovering from the fiercest orgasms she had ever experienced.
As she lay there, she thought to herself that she may wait at least another week before putting those back on.
Even when it is just the slightest morsel of fabric protecting your delicate sex, once it is removed it feels like a new world of unbearably pleasurable stimulation. Once the vibrator buzzes against your now fully exposed, hyper-sensitive pussy, you feel a new dimension of defencelessness has been granted.
I love seeing what I can do to you, the effect this all has on your body, the way your muscles tense and contract, the internal and external reactions meeting as one. It makes me want to push you further.
In this room she is his. Like a lion assessing its prey, the teacher’s eyes survey her hungrily. She knows exactly why she is here, yet her feigns of innocence make him even more intent on following through with what he had always implied to her. Her favourite college class was about to get so much better.
So often this student had teased him so subtly during lessons, flirting with him at every opportunity and wearing the skimpiest outfits all for his enjoyment. It wasn’t until he started to whisper things to her during lectures, in the guise of offering help with work, that he came to realise the hold that he had over her. The way her hand always slid under the desk any time he approached, to whisper more things in her ear, telling her just what he’d like to do to her, how he’d love to strip her right there and then. So slender, so full of desire, so delicate, so perfect for him to dominate.