"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".
Tag: many hands
She had often mentioned to her boyfriend how she fantasised about playing with other women; never did she dream that her fantasy would be lived out unexpectedly on a spa break. She certainly noticed him having a lengthy chat with these two ladies over the weekend, though she wouldn’t have believed that they were discussing when would be the right opportunity to take her, strip her and all have their way with her.
“If nobody hears us, we’ll have plenty of time alone with you here, so I’ve told these girls they can go extra slowly with you. I know it feels good sweetheart, but we can’t afford to let you come in case anyone hears us in here, I know how loud you are.”
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.
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.
In those most sensual recesses of your mind, you can escape into your deepest fantasies. Whether you wish to experience them in reality, or simply bathe in them through your imagination, you can let your desires to be touched, fondled and explored so intimately consume you as you gasp sweet syllables of intense stimulation.
Imagine yourself strapped and spread apart, your body felt by many hands eager to caress you. Imagine the way your legs would buckle as those fingers relentlessly rubbed against your delicate sex, feeling the heat from all those bodies surrounding you, each delighting in your moans and shudders of ecstasy. Imagine how you would not want them to stop, no matter how intense it became. Give in to your longings; the more you fantasise, the more vivid they become.
She had never expected to experience such torment, to repeatedly feel the sensations that continued to ebb away at her will-power.
Every night she turned up, like a moth to a flame. The advertisement had requested a female to be used for the class of massage students to practice on. She had not expected them to practice on her all at once, every night to be touched so much by so many soft, oily hands.
The massage instructor had told her not to masturbate for the duration of the week so that she remained most sensitive and responsive. The need overwhelmed her night after night, yet she somehow managed to hold out after every class. The thought of holding herself back was not only a challenge she wanted to succeed in, it was also something that had aroused her the moment she was first told it – the thought of trying to contain her own desires.
Each night she lay on the massage table as they circled around, each caressing her body and sliding their hands sensually all over. The girls took so much pleasure in arousing their subject, knowing that such a long, sensual massage – night after night – must have been unbearable. Occasionally one or two of them would let their fingertips brush against the lips of her sex, taking much delight in letting her arousal simmer, though never giving her the exploration she began to internally beg for. They kept gliding their palms so gently and slowly along the girl’s body, always working in unison to constantly stoke the flame.
Her mind could not follow the patterns of so many hands; soon it became a constant motion of erotic sensations sweeping over her skin.
By the end of the week, the classes, as well as the indescribable need afterwards, had become torture… yet still she went, with only one more night left.
At the mercy of their patient hands, she must not say a single word. She had passed all of the previous tests and trials, though this final one was always going to test her resolve the most in a completely different way.
There is always the possibility of being apprehended, therefore as a female warrior, they had to make sure she was completely prepared for whatever she might encounter in future. While she could defend herself in countless ways, there was always the fact that as a woman, her enemies may choose to focus their attentions on her femininity, to take advantage of the devastating responsiveness of her sexuality. To make sure that she was prepared for this, the final test called for her to prove her ability not to give in to the demands of her body, to control her responses.
She hadn’t been told how long the ordeal would last; it seemed as if their cruelly precise fingertips and palms became slower as time progressed, yet all she can do is try her hardest to stifle her agonising desire to give in, to cry out for more.