hegre – PleasureTorture

You play with yourself at the thought of what those warnings could mean – touching and teasing while thinking of being dressed in that skin-tight outfit. Even if nothing came of the warnings – if no entity apprehended you in order to sexually torment you just like in your fantasies – the thought of what others would want to do to you arouses you.

You imagine the material of your costume clinging so tightly against your body, wondering whether you’ll wear anything under it. You picture how it will look to others, seeing those delicate curves hugged by the material like a second skin. You know that they’d be looking at you, wanting to touch you, knowing that against the material, you’d feel their fingertips almost the same way against the outfit as you feel right now.

There are so many scenarios you could picture yourself in as you bring yourself to climax. Being apprehended by whatever the warnings are about, or perhaps feeling the touch of another, having seduced someone at the Halloween party. Or perhaps, simply returning to your bed afterwards and masturbating while in the outfit. Every situation turns you on; you want to spend the whole night vividly imagining each of them. Yet, with how sensitive and aroused you are, it won’t take long until you can’t contain the pleasure any more.

The strength of your fantasies will always dictate the strength of your orgasm.

For so long, you’ll think that it’s about teasing you. You’ll think that is why I restrained you. Those delicious little moments when you sway those hips and tense that cute ass of yours, hoping to entice me to let you come. Perhaps in those minutes, while you aren’t quite teetering on the brink, you’ll wonder whether you’ll handle the orgasm to follow, whether I’ll push you too much, but that passes; your need to orgasm pushes all else aside.

It’s during those most intense periods when it’s hard to tell whether that shine to your skin is still just from the massage oil or from sweat; that is when the real begging starts. But it is just before the first orgasm hits you, just when my fingers slip within you, that you realise that the bonds that hold you are going to feel just that bit tighter very soon.

At first, you don’t pull so hard, simply caught up in the pure rapture that encases you. However, when you come down and realise it isn’t stopping, then you know there’s no going back. They feel so tight around your wrists and legs, as if every orgasm tightens them just that little more as if it’s the rope itself that wants to torture you. No matter whether it is the fingers or the vibrator working your pussy to a frenzy over and over again, every time you orgasm, your sex feels just that little more exposed and helpless.

You keep asking yourself the question whether, after I have used the vibrator and after I’ve used my fingers to make you scream out, I’ll let you go. You should instead be asking yourself, once she’s used the vibrator and her fingers on me, will she then use her mouth?

After all, why do you think I restrained you so securely like this?

My sole aim is to make sure that no matter how hard you try and hold control, no matter how much you try to concentrate, you will lose yourself.

Whether one of her subjects or one of her customers, Madame Fleur’s slow, deliberate touches were always difficult to endure, though, with her students, she made sure they had to endure the most intensely erotic experience of their lives without faltering before she’d agree to take them under her wing. Her skills as a sensual, full-body masseuse were highly sought, with many wishing to undertake her teachings, though few ever were able to endure the torturous entry test, to prove their mental and physical control by remaining still as possible throughout her lengthy massage demonstration.

The way her hands cupped and caressed so delicately, knowing ever sensitive little spot to keep captive to her touch, it made it unbearable; an agonising pleasure that the masseuse knew how to manipulate and prolong as if time itself was under her command.

While her customers were always granted the release they came to her for within the hour, her potential students were never granted such mercy. For nearly 2 hours, they would always be kept teetering on that maddening brink. If they could last without begging for an orgasm or shifting position, she’d take them on as her apprentices, teaching the tantalising techniques of her erotic massages. Under her control, every second can feel like an hour.