"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."
Helplessly restrained, she begs for her orgasm while being teased and edged over and over again, denied every time. At one point she passes out from the overwhelming pleasure.
Content created by: PleasureTorture
Collecting moments of restraint and denial… of being brought to the edge of climax over and over until finally the orgasm is granted. Her sex feasted on relentlessly until the begging to be allowed to cum soon becomes begging for it to stop.
The sound quality is sadly very poor.
Content created by: PleasureTorture
“Welcome, Andrea, my dear. Please come in. I am Dr Wand; we have been expecting you!”
The voice was warm and 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.
Continue reading The Torment of DenialA 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 by 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 lingerie 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.
Continue reading Laura’s Fetlife Meeting