"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: orgasm and tickle fiesta
She had fantasised about it for so long, to put herself at the mercy of this couple who had promised to show her pleasures beyond her imagination.
The way they whispered things into her ear as she dined with them, how their words made her tremble. The way they nibbled the nape of her neck as she drank with them, how their teasing made her quiver.
She sighed and moaned while they massaged her smooth, supple, sumptuous body, dancing their fingertips across her sleek, oily skin.
Once her wrists were held down, she knew her fantasy had been brought to life; the girl was ready to climax harder than ever before. She shuddered the moment the vibrator grazed across her tender mound, arching her back as it soon built her body to a crescendo….
She felt the pure white hot pleasure engulf her.
When it did not stop, and the hands did not release their grip, she realised this was an intensity she had not ever dreamed of.
She will try and free herself to make it stop, her body defending itself against the pleasure it cannot take.
The hands won’t keep her down much longer… but the cuffs will.
The calm before the storm. Wanting to savour that gentle, throbbing arousal which radiates throughout. All while knowing what is to come. The sensations of denial still pulse within, yet the anticipation of release is enough to soothe those desires for a moment.
It’s all about the anticipation – knowing why you are there, knowing what is to come. What adds to the intensity is realising that it is all merely the beginning. The agonising need, the craving as every inch of you burns for more… it is simply to whet the appetite. Every time it stops, each moment that is taken away, soon you’ll be screaming out for those brief seconds of respite.
A weekend all to herself, finally the chance to try out the PleasureTorture outcall service had presented itself. Having made the call and booked for the entire weekend, she started having second thoughts, though, by this time, it was too late. As per the service she had chosen, there was no warning or introduction; as soon as the door was answered, she was stripped and tied. She was shaking, her heart pounding, yet even through wondering whether this was all a mistake, it somehow felt so perfect.
The first hour was pure bliss. Not a word was spoken to her. All part of the package that had been chosen. Of course, after a couple of hours, the denial period would take its devastating effect; soon, she’d be begging for an orgasm, begging for just a word or acknowledgement at all from the masked tormentor.
A weekend of orgasm denial and forced orgasms… once chosen, there is no going back. She had asked to be teased to the extreme, wordlessly brought to the brink until she was crying with need, then forced to endure orgasm after orgasm until the weekend was over. This was the service she asked for; it was the service she would undoubtedly receive.