10/31

Never a warning, never a sign of any change, yet it was always the same day: October 31st.

She always ensured she stayed at home, the intoxicating aroma of dread, arousal and anticipation in the air, keeping her in the house every night on this date as if a prisoner in her own home.

It was always the same pattern. She would lie in bed, drifting off into the arms of sleep, when the night was at its most still and silent, the moonlight always shining through as if to bathe her in the most erotic glow for the unseen intruder, a preemptive spotlight.

At first, it was simply a gentle tease, like the softest of fingertips slowly alerting her body, tracing up and down her frame and waking both her mind and senses. It brought about feelings that made her want to touch herself, though whatever it was, it never allowed her to do such a thing. It wanted her pleasure brought about by itself alone.

Not once was a sound made except for her own breathing. Even after all this time, she still couldn’t stop herself from calling out to it, even though she knew there would be no reply. That moment was always when things began to get too much… it always became too much by the end.

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The first orgasm was just to make her more sensitive to what was in store, to make sure that when she unsuccessfully attempted to pull her hips back and away from his touch, she’d fully realise just how helpless she was. The thought of not being able to pull away once the water was thrashing against her sex made her body surge with desire, even during the afterglow of her first orgasm. All those times using the shower head in her bathroom to pleasure herself would pale in comparison to this, to finally be made to push past those moments of over-sensitivity. 

The minutes it took for him to manoeuvre things into place felt like hours to the unbearably aroused young woman, fit to bursting with anticipation and dripping wet, her pussy still tingling from the fingertips that had already lavished it with so much attention.

Without warning, the streams of water hit like a whip, jets of focused stimulation that seemed designed just to stimulate and torment all at once. Her gasps could not be heard over the sound of the water smacking against her sex, slapping hard as if trying desperately to penetrate that tenderness. To have so much pressure forcing against her most delicate place should have been painful, yet it was an indescribable pleasure that teetered along the line of being too much and not enough at the same time. Whereas when she played in the shower with the faucet, she could control the force and accuracy to some degree, here she had to endure an unchanging torrent of power that would not relent, making her both anticipate and fear how it would feel once she came, her already hypersensitive clitoris wanting so much more protection from the stimulation. Her hips didn’t know what they wanted to do, whether to rock up and down to attract the attention closer to where needed it in a bid for the climax she craved, or whether to try and pull away and stop the torrent of sensations. 

Once the whip-like jets of water-focused their attack more directly on the innermost regions of her sex, the orgasm, which was so slowly building up seemed to leap upon her. Like having her pussy constantly slapped, the sensations were all her mind could maintain any focus on, an unrelenting, pleasure-filled, stinging impact that would cause for an orgasm to be the only possible outcome her body could comprehend. Partly due to the strict constraints of her bondage, the orgasm was the most intense she’d ever experienced. To be so wholly immobilized while experiencing sensations of pleasure that made her every muscle tense up, that made her want to curl up and protect her sensitivities, made it all the more agonisingly erotic; it was everything that she’d ever hoped it would be. Of course, the torrent did not cease for a second. Striking her clitoral region like a million thrashing tongues, her thighs strained to conceal herself from the onslaught to no avail. Never before had she felt so completely exposed. 

More intense than the roughest touch of a lover, the water showed no mercy to her delicate flower. At least when in the shower she could at the very least change the setting on the faucet to give herself a little respite. All she could do here was scream and cry out that she had come, though the man in control of the faucets knew that she wanted so much more. With her legs shaking uncontrollably, she strained against the bonds, both reviling and relishing the captivity as the water continued to wreak havoc against her sex. The problem for her would be that it would take a while for it to truly feel painful. Until that time, it would force another few orgasms from her trembling body. From then on, she’d never be able to have a shower without thinking of these moments. 

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When you masturbate, think back to those things you dream and fantasise about. The way you can almost feel the vibrators humming mercilessly against your body, the way your nipples and clitoris are so cruelly focused on. Think of how much you pull on the restraints and how much you scream out, how much your body is explored and just how vivid it all is. Though most importantly, when you come, think exactly of how the pleasure never stops, how they keep those vibrators pressing tight to you no matter how much you shudder and writhe, then just keep going. 

A position she’d always wanted to be in, to know that she was helpless to their impulses. It wasn’t merely their fingers and mouths however that caused her nipples to be so achingly hard and her pussy so wet. It was the fact that she understood just how well they knew her body so intimately inside and out. The knowledge that they both knew just how it felt, and that they’d keep at it until she was screaming for them to stop. Knowing that they’d maybe even keep playing with her past that point made her body pulsate with arousal even more; after all, they knew just what her body really desired.

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“That’s it, keep eating her out. Don’t pay any attention to how much she screams out and begs you to stop, keep going. If you make her orgasm another five more times, I’ll finally allow you to have that orgasm you need so badly. If you stop, it’ll be another week before you get the chance to come again. Perfect, show no mercy.”

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It always started the same, a chance hookup on a night out followed by some passionate sex back at her house; it’s what happened once they awoke that her victims would never forget. 

Strapped securely in the custom-made chair, the girls would wake up completely helpless with the object of their one-night stand now nestled between their legs. This time, however, there would be no stopping the onslaught. The oral they had experienced the night before was actually nothing more than a little appetiser, a way of seeing just how sensitive they were and just what got them off the most. From now on, it would just be constant, unrelenting pussy licking and sucking taken to a level that they would never have imagined in their most intense dreams. The woman did not stop. There was no response to their screams of near-painful pleasure and pleas for mercy. 

For her, it was always a test to see whether she could break her own record, to keep going for as long as possible. Even if her victim passed out, they’d simply wake to discover their pussy still being feasted on. Often after the 2-hour mark, they became desensitized from the pleasure, though she always mixed her techniques up to prevent it for as long as possible. 

This one was quite the screamer, something she truly loved; she’d make sure to keep her going for many hours to come. 

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Image source from: OrgasmAbuse

The Interrogation

Was it hours that had passed, or was it merely minutes? She had no idea. Time itself seemed lost in limbo. Her only measurement of being that seemed to exist now was whether she was coming, or just recovering from having climaxed. A hell of orgasms that would not stop.


No matter how many times she had told them all she knew, they would not relent in their interrogation, desperate to acquire the correct codes for her employer’s office. Her first mistake had been to side with them once in the past, when her ex-boyfriend had convinced her that her employer wouldn’t miss just a couple of the highly valuable paintings he kept there in his vast collection. The second mistake was to back out of the plan, having already told them that, being a close assistant to the boss, she was privy to the access code.

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She had always been his most treasured student, always a fantasy of his tucked neatly away in the depths of his mind. A gentle ebbing flame of lust, occasionally stoked by the prod of flirtatious behaviour. Though when she started to stay around longer after his lectures, he began to sense that she wanted more than just a little extra tuition. 

To get the chance to be entirely alone after school with her tutor – someone she’d been longing for ever since they’d first met – was a dream come true, especially as it was clear to her that his intentions were not innocent. He’d promised to meet her later in the evening with the keys to the gym hall, somewhere to meet with complete privacy. 

Her legs nearly buckled with giddy joy when he took instant control of the situation, pulling her into the gym and kissing her passionately, groping her body and keenly exploring every inch as if he’d been waiting for this day for a lifetime. With little time wasted, she was stripped naked before he told her that he had a surprise in store, something that she’d never forget. Overwhelmed with excitement and anticipation, she asked no questions as he thrust her down on a bench and began fastening cuffs around those succulent thighs and helpless wrists. With this display of control and determination, this man seemed so much taller and more masculine than she’d ever considered before. It turned her on immensely. So many times she’d masturbated to the thought of being tied and fucked intensely by this figure of authority. 

Nearly an hour later and she still screams about all the things she’ll do to his cock if he’ll just let her recover from the last orgasm. She says the same thing after every orgasm. It never seems to take very long for the next to come. When he had been setting the vibrators and the fucking machine in place earlier, she was too turned on to wonder just what he had in store. She hadn’t expected that his most well-kept desire was one simple thing… to bring her to tears of pleasure. Every orgasm is a new level of torture, though. With every shudder and jerk of her body that each climax causes, the vibrators are too tightly locked in place to relent in their torment of her overstimulated clitoris. That swollen red button is so engorged that the vibrators seem to have trapped it, though they had been turned to just the right setting to prevent the vibrations from being strong enough to desensitize that little bud full of nerve endings.

Her tutor simply watches with intent, such admiration of her gorgeous frame constantly shuddering in the fury of orgasmic bliss. The machine will not stop fucking her until he turns it off, which he has no intention of doing for a while to come. He’d rather simply watch something he’d fantasised about for so long, to see such a beautiful creature be penetrated beyond her wildest dreams, to know that she will never forget this moment, the night when she was forced to orgasm until passing out. Restrained and made to endure the constant pulsating pleasure agonizingly coursing through her clitoris, which seemed to visibly plead with its angry red shade for it all to stop. Every second the dildo slipped in and out of her hot, dripping-wet entrance, he imagined his own length thrusting inside, watching it sink into her depths as she moaned for him.

When she did finally pass out, he’d then allow it to finally stop, to let her recover and regain herself for a moment before at last giving her what she came for, his own body. With every thrust into her hypersensitive sex, she’d feel intensity unlike ever before. Finally, he’d be just where he’s always wanted to be… locked deep within her fantasies, the kind of fantasies that take hold and never let go. They’ll be spending a lot of time together here in future. 

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Image source from: Kink