The November Study

Vicky had intended to see how long she could last without masturbating, a personal challenge to stave off her own desires, so when her university friends had proposed the idea, she was entirely on board: to go the month of November without allowing herself any sexual release. If only she knew quite what she was in for.

Being very sensitive to stimulation, Vicky had often found it difficult to hold back from coming. Even with several friends with benefits at her university who she hooked up with regularly, she still found the most comfort in her private moments of masturbation, which were numerous throughout the week. The prospect of holding off for a week or two seemed daunting yet rather erotic, having to endure an entire month sounded like nothing more than pure torture. She liked the idea of such a challenge.

Her friends had fit her with a special heart rate monitor on both wrists, sealed in order to ensure she couldn’t remove either without them knowing. The devices would be able to alert for any spikes in heart rate along with being able to map out hand movement below waist level, ensuring they’d know within the month if she masturbated to orgasm. Vicky however had no intention of trying to cheat, she wanted to last.

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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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Telepath C23P

While she had trained for years to withstand all kinds of interrogation techniques, she was not prepared for this.

This wasn’t about finding out information. He could find out anything he wanted in mere seconds: this was simply about entertaining his own desires. After a while, she would be screaming out every secret of her organisation, telling them everything they wanted to know, begging for mercy, pleading for it to stop; he would savour every second of it.

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Haunted House (Olivia)

As Olivia ventured deeper into the haunted house, she noticed that it seemed to start brimming with plant life, gorgeous flowers that seemed to breathe a new lease of life into what had been such a dark, claustrophobic setting. It was only when she entered a large, garden-like open space that she realised that she had unknowingly been separated from her friends. Before she had time to call back out to them, a group dressed as zombies sprang forth from the surrounding foliage and apprehended her. She had no time to react or even cry out for help as she was stripped naked and thrust onto a table at the centre of the thriving garden. The moment she was held down on it, she realised that the garden itself wasn’t simply a prop. It was pulsating with life; the greenery seemed to undulate as if breathing in and out. The movement above, with the rhythmic churning of branches and petals, almost hypnotised the naked girl for a moment, though the realisation that the hands were no longer what kept her held down brought her back to reality.

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Hoping and Praying…

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 of 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 of 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.

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Let’s Play…

I want to play a game…

You have sought out the delights of penetration at so much cost. Passing by so many opportunities for true pleasure for the sake of that quick fix. How many times you overlooked those such as I who could have provided you a night of pleasure beyond your dreams for the easy catch. I have watched you leave those clubs with the same carbon copy reveller over and over again, only to complain about such lack of satisfaction. Now you will learn what it is to find your own satisfaction, something much deeper.

I have coated your sex with a powerful aphrodisiac which causes an insatiable longing: that torturous arousal will not fade for quite some time. If you can last until the time is up without succumbing to the need to slide that glass dildo inside yourself, you will be free. If, however, you let it slip into you, or if you stop sliding it against your womanhood, or if you even allow yourself to come, you lose. If you fail, you will be fully restrained to that table and suffer an entire hour of ruined orgasms. 

How long do you have to last before you are free? That is something you’ll just have to patiently find out. Good luck, the time starts now.

Content created by: PleasureTorture

Image source from: W4B

He told her that he would bring her to the pinnacle of orgasm for at least an hour. The sensation was unlike anything; she simply giggled at first, unsure how to react to such sensations. After a while, she began to realise that this burning need would not simply fade, but by that time, it was too late to stop…

As the second hour of denial passed, her giggles became desperate cries for release… cries for an orgasm that would not come. If only she knew how it felt to be trapped in this torment for so long before she agreed to it.

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