"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".
You may try and capture their existence with cameras, but they will make their presence known far more intimately tonight. Hear the demonic whispers as on this Halloween night pleasure becomes your treat… and your nightmare. The feeling of cuffs on your wrists and hands holding you down as you sleep certainly aren’t just in your mind…
An audio/visual experiment, capturing Nova Gold taken hold by a supernatural entity on Halloween night.
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.
She had long heard stories of the property, how sometimes the sounds of females moaning could be heard within. Regarded by many as the house of pleasure, it was still her job to try and sell it no matter what people believed about the building. Her curiosity had certainly taken hold after hearing tales of women appearing within the property, strangers who lured trespassers into long nights of constant sexual torment, though often these tales were met with complete disregard. It was only when she heard the sound of the showers running that she decided to investigate for herself. Once she entered the shower room, she was greeted by a group of women who seemed ready for her, as if they existed solely for her own fantasies. The sense of warmth and welcoming beckoned her onwards, as if entranced and magnetised towards these people who surely weren’t real; it was as if the moment she laid eyes on them, any sense of fear or disbelief was washed away. Whether ghostly entities or a figment of her own imagination, they were there with her right now, there to make use of her erotic presence.
She had bought the house having been warned against the strange occurrences within, knowing that the man who had previously rented it spoke of strange whispers and had sensed other presences within. She however thought little of this foolishness. Though after living there for over a month, the rumours proved quite true.
She had been masturbating before it happened, thinking of being fucked hard and fast by different men, getting so close to climax at the thought of such intense penetration. When she was on the verge however, she suddenly blacked out. It only felt like a second later that she awoke in the bed, yet now she was wearing some other attire, her body uncovered, her wrists restrained to the bed, helpless.
The sensations of being near climax still somehow tingled throughout her body, yet there was nothing she could do to relieve the desire. After a moment, the whispers began, whispers of pure sexual desire, whispers of how erotic she looked, how much they wanted to fuck her. Suddenly a blindfold slipped over her eyes as she called out, begging the invisible entities to let her go – still they merely whispered their desires.
Her fear began to give way to astonishment as the sensation of cool fingertips caressed her body, lightly tracing every inch. After an hour of this, her fear had been entirely replaced by pure need. The blindfold kept her constantly in a state of uncertainty, locked in her own imagination, while the non-stop light as a feather touches kept her aching for more.
Hours went by like this, being constantly touched and teased without relief. She begged, she screamed, she cried out for more, but still the presences which feasted on her arousal seemed content to let her writhe in anguish.
After many more hours, they began to focus on those most sensitive little areas; the sensation of fingertips, tongues and lips trailing over her nipples, over the unbearable sensitivity of her soaking wet sex, over her aching, pulsating clitoris.
Having resigned herself to this cruel fate, she realises that nothing will stop them. Tonight will be a long night of constant teasing torture. Her only hope is that, by the end, they might let her have the orgasm she prays for.
Whispers of eroticism twisting through the night air; like a petal entwined in breeze, you writhe, lost in the mystical passions that threaten to consume you.
Neither asleep nor truly awake, you feel an embrace like no other, as if the atmosphere itself is lovingly caressing your body, keeping you held in its place. Not being fully awake, fear does not cloud the enchantment of sensuality your body possesses. The first ripples of movement around your body has it curious for more, as if the slightest sense of activity in the air sets your nerves alight.
The caressing movement of the sheets presses over your body as if they were the hands of a thousand masseurs exploring the contours of your female frame. Your body seems to burn with a need, yet there is no way of ever knowing whether time has passed in seconds or hours – every touch upon your body seems to linger for an eternity.
The embrace of the entity against your chest sends a warm surge down to your toes, instinctively your hands press to the sheets, clasping onto nothing but cotton yet still feeling as if all the hands in the world were focused on your body.
As your skin is exposed, the air itself seems to kiss every morsel of you, as if the sensual whispers were showing their appreciation. You writhe in agonised ecstasy as your breasts are caressed once again, every fibre of your sexuality being enticed effortlessly. The sheets embrace you ceaselessly, like a sea of pleasure washing over you, threatening to drown you. Unlike fingers, the motions wreaking havoc around your body feel like countless threads of silk twining around your skin.
The movements lead between your thighs, making your internal, sub-conscious voice cry out in bliss. The sheet envelops you, a mass of pleasure encasing you as you rock uncontrollably, feeling like the sensation of a hundred silky brushes rolling along the deepest sensitivities of your sex, all under the firm grasp of the sheet rocking against your womanhood.
You will not awake from this abyss of pleasure until the desires of the night are through with you; passing out, screaming out, shielding yourself – these are options beyond your control. You are merely the passenger, they shall drive you to the greatest heights of pleasure.
Without control, without respite, you moan into the eternity of the night.
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.
She lies there, hoping and praying that tonight will be any different, yet it is always the same. Time after time the whispers drift throughout the room; soft as feathers, yet the effects strike like talons. Every night they tell her to open herself to the whims of that which cannot be seen, yet the touches are unmistakable.
No matter how much she questions the beings or speaks to them, no answers are given except for the same orders, to keep spread-eagled and motionless. Whatever these bodiless entities were, their power over the girl was beyond human comprehension. They would tease her body in ways no mortal could manage, though this is where the girl’s torment truly took hold. While they always ordered her to remain in the position, the delights wrought on her were always too much to endure; they kept bringing her to the edge of orgasm in ways her mind could not fathom, in ways which finally made her give in before they granted her the orgasm she craved. As soon as she moved, the beings vanished, leaving her wanting. The cruelty was that they always left her stuck in this state, making sure that she could not orgasm even under her own manipulations, sealing her orgasm off until they returned the next night… and the next… and the next.
She has lost count how many nights it has been, yet still they pay no heed to her begging and whimpering, they simply give the one single order and continue their work. No matter what she wears, the cloth is no barrier to them, it is as if her skin were moving and teasing itself. It has always been the same since the beginning, they always work so painfully slow, spreading warm sensations all over her body, yet when the attention hones onto her clitoris and nipples, she loses it.
Tonight her silken black underwear is no defence as usual – they assault her body with constant lingering touches. No matter how much she mentally prepares herself, her every nerve reacts to what feels like hundreds of fingertips darting between her thighs to seduce the wetness within. No matter how hard she clenches her fingers and how much she tenses every muscle in retaliation, her body is always overcome with horrifying ease.
She tries once again with all of her might to hold her composure, to not give in, to finally last until the sweet kiss of orgasm is granted; yet each day of being denied has taken its toll more and more, making the following day even harder still. Frustrated cries of desperation fill the room as her body arches, clutching at the bed in need. She knows it is helpless, left to experience another 24 hours coping with the build-up of unreleased arousal.
She will have to go through it all over again. She prays that tomorrow night will yield what she wishes for most.
A whimper of pleasure… a smouldering scream of longing. Every ounce of her despair, her sexual torment, resonates throughout the room, sounds which never penetrate through the mystically sound-proofed room.
Her hips remain held up by an unseen yet powerful grasp, keeping her so vulnerably on her front, completely exposed. Any time she moves her hands anywhere below her neckline, they are quickly pulled back up. She cannot see her tormentors, nor can she hear them, every plea and scream seems to fall on deaf ears as they continue to manhandle her like a doll. No matter how much she tries in vain to free herself, to move away, they hold her steady in the position they delight in, leaving her to simply rock her hips in dire need.
It feels like hours have passed, yet they show no signs of stopping. Over and over she is brought to the brink of orgasm by the merciless forces around her, showing no sympathy as she constantly begs to be made to come. At first she had tried to fight the ghostly advances, yet it took them little time to strip her, to ravish her, leaving her with solely the animalistic need brought to the surface.
Countless touches linger on her exposed flower, teasing her to the edge before the sensation of hundreds of tiny tongues encasing her peeled back, exposed clitoris makes her scream. Hundreds of flickers to her throbbing, aching jewel keeps her on the edge for longer than even the cruellest of fantasies could imagine.
No matter how much she screams out for the merciful release of orgasm, or how many tears of pleasure soaked agony line her flushed red cheeks, they do not relent. While they continue to edge her over and over, they are not gentle; sucking her clitoris so hard, exploring her sex so deeply, yet no matter how roughly they feast on her, they always keep her teetering on the brink.
Whether bringing her to the closest possible peak of climax repeatedly without rest, or holding her on the edge for longer than humanly possible, they never change their pattern or slow down, keeping her juices running down her thighs and dripping onto the bed.
Even through the sensations neither her mind nor body can comprehend or handle, the sweet relief of passing out is not granted. While she cries out, screams, begs and writhes her sweat coated body, they continue unhindered, not allowing for the inferno to ever dwindle.
This hell will be endured for as long as the entities wish, and they are in no rush. They have all the time in the world to deliver their sweet anguish… the anguish of being tortured by silent, invisible entities which cannot be touched nor pleaded with.