Laura volunteered for the Erotic Haunted House, wanting to make a little extra money as well as to have a little sexual fun. The thought of being watched by strangers while being teased and tantalised was so enticing. Yet while her screams at first were simply play acting for the guests passing by, after a little, they became genuine. The ‘demented nurses’ attending to her wanted to put on a show, so they made sure that they were going to give Laura forced orgasms in order to make sure those screams, those times when she was begging for it to stop, that it was too much, were all sincere.

Hearing this girl begging and pleading with the patrons walking by kept attracting attention and turned them on even more. The girls in control wanted to put on a good show. With Laura completely restrained and helpless, they were free to keep the powerful wand vibrators nestled against her swollen red pussy for as long as they desired. All Laura could do was pray that after they forced her to orgasm the next time, they’d let her rest. Maybe the next time… or perhaps the next.

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Perhaps if you’d have taken heed of the warnings, you wouldn’t be here. How reckless it was to traverse home alone, but it is too late now. She told you at the beginning that she hadn’t decided what to do with you, whether she’d devour your soul with your climax or whether to let you live and keep you as her sex toy. You believe her though, that while you might beg for the latter option, in time you’ll be wishing you chose the first. The way her mouth works you as if she’s known more about your pleasures than you could ever fathom yourself, keeping you shivering non-stop.

Every time your length slips between her lips, you let out a groan of pleasure, the likes of which has never escaped your mouth before. Her tongue wraps around and cradles the head of that pulsating cock as if to let it know that it will never escape. After merely thirty minutes, she has you whimpering in need to come, yet your moans and imploring words do not satiate her nearly as much as the pulse within every vein and each twitch of longing.

No matter how much you ask, she won’t answer just how long she’ll hold you on the brink. All she tells you is that when you do come, it will feel like every orgasm you have ever experienced in your life rolled into one.

She can feel every nerve-ending signal just how close you are, feel the moments when you need a little more friction or speed, even feel the times when you start to pray that she’ll let you fuck her. Perhaps if she had told you, however, that the saliva of her kind could keep you safely erect for hours, that she’d be able to keep sucking you for as long as she wanted, maybe you wouldn’t have been begging to come quite so fast.

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I want to play a game.

As close friends, you have both accused the other of stealing pleasure from one another. A boyfriend here, a sexual partner there. You have both been correct at times, yet now shall be the time to see who truly can steal away the most ecstasy. Perhaps then you’ll both see that what goes around can often come back twice as hard.

The Sybian vibrators nestled so intently against your pussies are wired to one another. When one of you comes, the others will increase in intensity. You have twenty minutes. If one of you screams, my associate will enter and make things even more difficult. Endure the twenty minutes without begging for it to stop, and you will both be free. Fail, and it will start all over again.

Good luck. I recommend you both try and hold back.

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The Ropes

She knew it was hopeless, yet still she tried to reach down and stop the toy. Once again, just like it had done for the last 30 minutes, the ropes around her wrists and arms pulled her arms back up, trapping her further in place. The bright white sparks cracked along the ropes securing her waist and legs to the table as well as the vibrator. Perhaps if she had noticed these sparks on the toy and ropes earlier, she’d have been able to get away before they came to life and overpowered her.

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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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Halloween Season: Long Night

Tonight is going to be a long, long night.

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 sensation 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, 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, screamed, and cried out for more, yet still the presences that 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, the unbearable sensitivity of her soaking wet sex, and 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.

Content created by: PleasureTorture

Image source from: Harmony

Post Halloween Blindfold

Tonight, she will experience nothing but hell. It would make absolutely sure of that…

After a very entertaining Halloween night, she had woken late in the afternoon, her hangover not nearly as bad as expected. Having hoped to have hooked up with someone, the trace of unfulfilled desire mixed with the idea to masturbate as a cure for her faint headache had meant for a powerful sexual cocktail. As she started playing, fantasizing about a man holding her down on the ground and masturbating her, she realised that there was a blindfold laid out amongst the remnants of last night’s outfit. Keen to further augment her fantasy of being dominated a little by her fantasy lover, she quickly put the blindfold on. The moment it went on, her fate for the rest of the day and night was sealed.

A sudden burst of indescribable need forced its way throughout her body, a longing that seemed impossible, a sexual torment far beyond the realm of mortal torture. Though what made it even more maddening was that, at that moment when every ounce of her very being wanted nothing more on earth than to masturbate herself into a frenzy, her hand would not respond – it was being controlled by something else.

It was no accident that this blindfold, a cursed item, had found its way to her. While she would never know how it came to be in her possession, whoever had placed it on her had known just how much torment would befall the recipient once they wore it. 

The blindfold, as soon as it was put on, took all control away from the hands of the wearer. All she could do was writhe her hips and hope that control would return, while the entity within the blindfold maintained its direction over her fingertips. The true horror of the cursed item however, was something which would torment this girl beyond anything humanly possible: every time that a woman had been forced to be brought to the edge with the blindfold, that sensation had been stored within it, meaning that every time a new person wore it, they experienced the build-up of every moment prior. This girl was now being tortured with the feeling of hundreds of moments of being right on the edge of orgasm, all at the same time, coursing within her – the sensation of a thousand pinnacles of orgasm rushing through her at once, a hell beyond description. She could not scream. She could barely moan. It took all her effort to even breathe with the unfathomable, agonising pleasure tearing her body and mind apart. Though the cruellest of all was that even with this horrific need forced upon her, the entity would not masturbate her. Instead, it simply made her hand tease her sensitive pussy relentlessly. 

For over an hour, it traced slow fingers, brushing and sweeping over and around her pussy and breasts, all over her body, never giving her what she needed, her streaming tears of desperation doing nothing to tide the cruel torment. 

Her pussy juice flowed in a non-stop torrent, her body unable to comprehend the inferno of aching need, as if she had melted into a pool of indistinguishable pleasure. She would surely die from this kind of feeling, though it certainly would not let that happen. This vessel of female bliss was far too delightful. The fingers continued to trail idly along her sex. Once whatever controlled her hand finally began to masturbate her, she was met with another level of horror – it would not let her come. As much as it felt like she’d explode from it, as much as she felt that she’d die from the intensity of an orgasm from all of this inside, there was no release from the anguish. Her suffering would continue for hours, with her fingers relentlessly masturbating herself, every time she’d have normally climaxed, simply adding to the whirlwind of countless orgasms pent up within. In any other state of mind, she’d fear just how intense an orgasm from this would feel, though right now, all she feared was how long it would take until orgasmic release came. It would be a long time before she found out.

Content created by: PleasureTorture

Image source from: VelvetEcstasy

Bathing in Pleasure

The moment she sank into the bath, the desire to masturbate herself that had lingered all day finally overcame her. The moment she closed her eyes and opened them, she found herself in a different place. Somehow there was no sense of fear or shock – a warm haze drifted over her – yet the sexual longing did not subside. Instead, it seemed to be amplified. While the water was still just as warm as her bath, she could not fully control her body, as if she were being held in place. 

The moment she felt a mouth press between her thighs, she jumped and tried to look down to see who – or what – was there. It was then that she realised that even her head was being held back in the water. The water held her wrists, waist, ankles and head in place like liquid hands.

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