"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".
You could have been cautious, though perhaps you wouldn’t have done a single thing differently.
For the first few days in college, you kept to yourself as you always had. Buried in your books as if raising your head would necessitate the need to interact with the world outside of them; a safe haven from the complications and discomfort that interactions can bring. It wasn’t that you didn’t occasionally look fondly at the relationships of others around you, it’s just that the fear of the unknown wouldn’t allow you to traverse outside the safe haven of your solitude.
‘The shy girl,’ that’s how Julia first referenced you. Few terms could make you withdraw further than being directly labelled as shy, yet the more Julia spoke to you throughout your first week in college, the more that you realised this person, who you deemed ‘the cool girl’, wanted to befriend you. It took a little while to coax you out of your shell a little more, yet the prospect of not just making a friend, but befriending one of the most popular people in college, allowed you to feel more accepted.
Often in the past you’d looked on, wanting to not just win people over but also be admired, yet too afraid of any imagined repercussions and confrontations to commit yourself and push past your fears of rejection. Yet here you were, the first couple of weeks of college and already friends with THE Julia.
You had known before when people’s eyes were lingering on you, since Julia befriended you, her remarks on how attractive you are helped you not only appreciate the gazes but also meet them head on. While you weren’t quite ready to actively hang around with Julia’s clique, you couldn’t deny that the thought of being amongst the popular group was enticing. Being around Julia had helped you realise that your interests and hobbies weren’t a cause to be the outsider – she shared many of the same likings. In fact, she admired your love of reading, writing and photography. For once your pastimes weren’t making you feel like the outsider.
Test subject remains in a desperate need to climax following the administration of the DimensionStop drug. Due to her extreme reactions, I advise that the subject be restrained immediately following the study and monitored so that she does not cause any harm to herself through over-stimulation from intense masturbation. The subject had complied with the requests to not masturbate at all for the last 7 days; this coupled with the drug has caused for her to now be completely oblivious to all verbal tasks, direct conversation and feedback now that the study is in its 3rd hour. Her only focus is the need for climactic release.
It appears that aside from solely inhibiting orgasm, the effects of the drug also cause for a constant increase in the level of pleasure which the recipient is exposed to. Readings show that the subject’s levels of arousal have constantly increased while the vibrators stimulating her breasts and vaginal region have been kept in place, rather than simply plateauing after the first hour, which had previously been the case. The researcher administering the stimulation has been told to apply more force with the vibrators yet the subject still has not experienced any level of over-stimulation: this suggests that her need for orgasm has overridden the typical responses to being overstimulated.
While normally very cooperative in research, for the last 60 minutes test subject 0106 has continued to beg and scream for the test to stop and be granted the mercy of climax, all while constantly trying to move her body in a manner to apply greater pressure on her clitoral region in an attempt to elicit an orgasm. I propose that the subject be denied orgasmic release for another day, with testing to continue again tomorrow, with the aim to continue daily to examine how long the effects of the drug can be replicated. I suggest therefore that only after another week of testing shall the test subject be taken off the drug and be allowed to orgasm, needless to say that the orgasm she shall experience will be of an extreme intensity.
Every time it pulls away, the desperation feels one hundred times worse.
She thought she was prepared for the auction, ready to indulge in whatever the master who had the winning bid had prepared for her, ready for a few months of luxury and erotic servitude; she couldn’t wait.
What she had not expected however was the specifications that the auction required, for the maids who were to be auctioned off to be in a state of desperate sexual longing. To make sure they looked most appetising to the bidders, the auctioneers were thorough in making sure the only thoughts on the girls minds were the need to orgasm and the orders they’d obey to soon be allowed that release.
All that is on her mind now is the buzz of the vibrator and the unbearable pulses of longing between her thighs. Every day for the week before the auction she has been brought to the edge countless times, until she has offered anything for an orgasm or even just another jolt of pleasure that comes from being brought to the edge. Another two days until the auction, another two days of being vibrated to the brink and having it stop, repeated until she can barely think or speak. Another two days of begging for the chance to come, knowing it won’t happen, no matter how many times the words ‘please’ escape her lips. Her only problem is that the auction caters most specifically for masters who greatly enjoy denial; she will be begging for a long time to come.
“That’s it, beg for me. Show me how much you want me to fuck you.”
No matter how much she writhed for him, no matter how much she told him how she wanted him inside her, she wouldn’t be granted her orgasm.
She had teased herself for him on webcam for the last two weeks, tormented over and over by his instructions, edging herself repeatedly until she was begging, then it would always stop. Every day for two weeks she had been left hoping and praying that he’d let her have release by the end, every day she was left in cruel denial.
“Please…Oh God PLEASE,” she cried out once he told her to pull her hands away from her lingerie, denied from touching her body at all as the pulsing need from being held on the edge was coursing through her. She was on the verge of tears with frustration, her tight lingerie was like a barrier pressing against her dripping wet, constantly twitching pussy.
“Imagine me pulling those panties away, sinking my mouth against your wet little pussy and sucking hard, devouring your clitoris while I kept you held down and helpless.”
“I’ll do anything, please.”
Again he made her edge… again he made her stop. With a look of tortured longing, her hands went back up to her shoulders, fighting desperately with her own need to thrust them back down and masturbate to the orgasm she craved. She was on the verge of tears with need, yet still she held out.
“That is all for our webcam teasing for now, you will touch yourself and keep yourself frustratingly close to the edge for the next 20 minutes, then that is all for tonight for you.” With that he was gone.
Unknown to her however, he was only 20 minutes away from her house, planning to arrive at hers now that she was so overwhelmingly desperate. Just when she would be ready to retire for bed, he’d arrive, though shortly after her moments of surprise and glee, she’d once again be reduced to a quivering wreck of despair. He would strip her fully and tie her down on the bed before continuing his cruel teasing all throughout the night; constantly tormenting her perky breasts, stiff nipples and swollen red clitoris with the slightest of touches.
Once he did finally devour her pussy, sucking her clitoris hard while his fingers penetrated her furiously, she’d be gasping for air in a torrent of pleasure. Once every inch of his shaft slid inside her, she’d be screaming for him to let her come, feeling his cock pulse every time he stopped thrusting, leaving it buried inside while she tensed so close to the edge. Though one thing would worry her… the fact that after all the teasing and denial, after all the build-up, she knew it’d be the most intense orgasm of her life, and she knew that would not be the end of it: he was going to torture her with her orgasms.
He’d experienced so many massages by skilled female hands before, however he never expected this masseuse would take so much joy in her work. The ‘endurance massage’ sounded intriguing, he had wanted to feel something different, something beyond the typical body rub and happy ending. After lying down on the table and having half hour spent with his naked body massaged in the warm glow of candle-lights, he wondered how this was any different to any other full body erotic massage. Once he felt cuffs wrapping around his wrists and ankles, clicking into place and pulling him spread-eagled, he realised this was indeed going to be a new experience.
Nearly an hour later and the slow, sensual and methodical attention of the masseuse had him on the verge and begging for release. She was a true master of her craft, keeping his length pulsating and throbbing with the hardest erection he’d ever felt, yet never doing enough to relieve the tension. The more it continued, the more he could feel how much she indulged in giving so much pleasure and frustration at once, how she could see, feel and control the effect she had. Any time he tried to speak, wanting to convey his need for more, she gently told him to remain silent, that when release finally came, it would be beyond anything he’d ever felt before. The perfect orgasm.
As his body continued to tense in anticipation for something that the masseuse was holding back from him, he wondered just how much she expected him to be able to take. Just as he was about to ask her to please finish him off, she spoke…
“Wonderful. Just continue to relax as much as you can. I actually haven’t set the timer yet, I’ll set it now… One hour.”
Christmas eve, the flicker of a flame bathing her smooth skin, a mere ember compared to the inferno of need that raged within her. She swayed her hips a little, hoping to entice the man standing beside her at the foot of the bed, yet it was to no avail. Still his hands continued to massager her. Tantalizing her, his hands continued gliding along her back, caressing her raised ass cheeks, coursing along her sides, outlining the contours of her delicate frame. If only he’d touch her more instead of only teasing the sides of her breasts, instead of merely toying with the lips of her sex, so exposed and easy to penetrate.
Her pussy could get no wetter, so plump with arousal, doing all it could to invite those calculated fingers into that silky soft delicacy. Yet he was deliberate, there was still so much more time.
“Turn,” he whispered, gently, yet commanding.
She smiled as she turned, surely this would be the time?
As she turned over on the pillows, while he coated his fingers with more of the lubricant, she looked around for a clock. To her disappointment he had removed any indication of time, only his phone alarm would indicate when Christmas day officially arrived.
Now on her back, the mistletoe hung in full view above them – the cause for her predicament. He wanted her to see it once he filled her with disappointment again, denying her the fulfilment of giving her the orgasm she so desperately craved. With her hips raised by the pillows beneath, her womanhood was so fully presented to him, yet still he merely traced his fingertip around her mound.
Her body trembled as his fingers slowly and deliberately circled the stiff peaks of her nipples, threatening to give her the relief of pinching them, before stopping and tormenting her pussy once again. She finally broke down and began begging him once he toyed with her clitoris. The way he peeled back her clitoral hood to expose that tender morsel, before circling it cruelly, forced her to plead for the orgasm she had been torturously denied for so long. Just a pinch, the thrust of a finger – anything.
“Not until we kiss under the mistletoe.”
Her mind raced back to their Christmas work do, just a couple of days ago. How they’d been with their colleagues, standing together under the mistletoe when he leaned forward to kiss her. Her words becoming her own torment, ‘no mistletoe kisses until Christmas,’ she had said with a cheeky laugh. She had stopped him then, but right now she’d do anything for that kiss.
Clawing at the bed in the agony of desire, she had no idea how long until he’d make her come. 10 minutes? An hour? He’d tease her relentlessly for as long as it took.
All she was certain of was that when the time came, she knew exactly where she wanted him to kiss her.
Hannah had known that there were traps within the cavern to stop treasure hunters in their tracks, though she was never expecting to be apprehended by an organic entity. The centuries-old mechanisms she had navigated through seemed to be a way to detract her attention from the slow moving entity. All the mass of tentacles needed was to lay patiently in waiting for its unsuspecting prey.
It quickly became apparent that it had no intention to kill her. After an hour of struggling and unsuccessfully trying to escape its clutches, she soon came to find that a quick death or even torture was not its goal – or at least not the kind of torture she had feared.
Once it had finally stripped and secured its new prisoner, it was free to show her how this long forgotten civilisation punished those who dared seek out their treasures.
It took its time turning her fear into arousal, armed with hundreds of years of experience honing its skills on the human anatomy. After an hour, Hannah was writhing, all thoughts of escape had been rendered mute by such deliberated seduction. It was too dark to make out the minute details of the guardian, though it had absolutely no trouble in tantalising the minute details of her own body. It read her every desire as if each one of her movements were its very own script. Tiny tendrils snaked across her body and teased every sensitivity. Her mind’s eye could not keep up with the ways it explored between her thighs. Through such disgust and fear, the creature knew just how to cause her body to betray her; it had much experience in making one lose themselves to the desires of the flesh. So many tendrils caressed the lips of her sex while others sought out the delicate jewel nestled within, slowly circling until her clitoris was pulsating with arousal.
While Hannah tried fruitlessly to escape the clutch of her captor, deep down she wondered, with how much this thing was tapping into her most intimate desires, if she’d have even ran at all. If only she knew what was to come, perhaps she’d have tried so much harder. She of course knew that this was to ward off explorers, but still was not sure why it was treating her to such a whirlwind of pleasure, seducing her body like the most attentive of lovers. As time went on though, and as it continued to arouse her without pushing towards making her come, she’d soon understand that this was the punishment itself.
It would not give her the respite of caressing that sensitive clitoris the way she needed. For so long it had toyed with that little morsel, causing her hips to sway in a desperate bid to communicate that it had won her over. Instead those little tendrils continued to caress her folds like cruel fingertips, as if taking joy from every twitch of anticipation, while those at her clitoris slid and prodded tenderly like one hundred tongues all playing with their meal.
The more it went on, the more it learnt about her, and how to keep her teetering on the edge. Suddenly came the little strokes of a phallus against her soft, wet petals, just pushing to that twitching opening. Always enough to make her hope for more though still it would not offer relief, keeping her pussy constantly dripping without any sign of penetration. Each time the tip of that large appendage pressed to her, Hannah felt what seemed to be soft little cilia moving autonomously, completely covering that bulbous head. It wreaked havoc on her to imagine what that would feel like if only it slid inside, to be fucked while having them stroke right against the most sensitive parts within.
Once it started to vibrate, to have her feel every ridge and groove writhe, she begged and pleaded like her life depended on it – all to no response. It simply kept the wondrous tip just far enough away to let her feel it press her pussy lips apart every time she gyrated her hips against it. Feeling the little cilia-like structures oscillate just at her opening, swaying a little as if trying to slip a little further into her pussy, was truly maddening. This tentacle based life-form was more intelligent than Hannah ever expected to find here; it was actively toying with her, and it wanted her to know that her efforts to fight against it were hopeless.
Another, more human-like phallus was introduced to her other lips, to feel those thick, pulsing inches against her tongue. Tears of frustration rolled down her cheeks as she imagined how that motion of penetration would feel for her agonizingly teased pussy. The way it let a sucker-tipped tentacle devour her nipples seemed to drive the point home: it knew what she craved and wanted her to think about how much more it could do.
Even just the slight teasing motions around her clitoris, the occasional hum of pleasure to her pussy, was enough to bring her towards the pinnacle. Adding the suction to her nipples flung her right to the edge. It drew her nipple up and lavished that stiff peak with numerous tongue-like sensations, all in a bid to make sure she never lost focus of what it could do to such a small part of her body. Every time she got close however, it kept her on the brink for as long as she could possibly take – slowing the motion of the tendrils and backing off with the buzzing phallus.
She knew full well that her pleas had no effect, yet when the tendrils peeled back her clitoral hood to let another sucker brush over the tip, she still screamed out every promise and plea her mind could muster, just to feel it clamp down on it.
Once the sucker did finally snatch that engorged nub into its fold to suck relentlessly, the tentacles would have to tighten their grip on Hannah as every muscle tensed and strained in shock and joy. Though that would not be for quite some time. The tentacle beast had grown accustomed to the the many ways of teasing humans to the brink of insanity. With so much time spent alone and undisturbed, it made the most of its one and only activity.
She would not be saved from this torture. It knew how to suckle against and draw pleasure from every nerve ending in her clitoris. It knew how to explore every inch of her pussy and devour the joy of her G-spot. It knew how to keep her skin aflame with need and her breasts heaving in constant anticipation. It was going to take its time showing her the depths of pleasure too hellish to believe. To make her weep at the decision to ever enter this place.
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 sensations 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, whispers 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, she screamed, she cried out for more, but still the presences which 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, over the unbearable sensitivity of her soaking wet sex, over 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.