"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".
The future and the past all feel like a dreary haze, a liquid entity that would merely slip through her fingers, the only solidity is in the present: the longing, the torment, the unendurable present that consumes her.
Occasionally the instances that brought her here flash in her mind, an insignificant check-up with the doctor… that check-up which had stirred so much within. She had thought the prescription would be of little consequence, yet the constant arousal within her after taking it seemed to be too out of the ordinary to ignore. When she had brought it up with the doctor at subsequent visits, he simply gave her a short examination, one which involved him touching her more than she had a feeling was necessary; it was as if he could see her thoughts and had delved into those locked away fantasies. After the examination, he’d given her a stronger dose to take, unsurprisingly, it made her even hornier. The more she masturbated, the more the desire seemed to consume her. Day and night, sexual thoughts clouded her mind while the desire to touch lingered without respite. She couldn’t take it, she had to return. She did not even question it when she was made to change into a gown, as if she were to be staying for a long duration, nor did she question him requesting that she changed there in his office, the idea turned her on even more. All she wanted was for the sensations to die down, yet the thought of his eyes lingering on her made her melt inside, she tried to pretend that it was the prescription that had made her lust after this man even more.
In this moment, she is nothing but a helpless exhibition of lust.
The show had been a hit for the night, the audience all applauding at every expected moment, yet the erotic dancing and the simulated displays of passion were all merely a warm up for the main act.
After an evening of enjoyable yet light entertainment, the audience were anticipating what they had been truly waiting for, ready for the curtains to open once more for the final show.
Silence descended over the room as the curtains opened, revealing the nameless starlet, hanging helplessly and exposed to the female teaser standing beside her, ready to give the crowd what they wanted. A wet, tantalising heat seemed to radiate from the stage as the teaser wordlessly began her work.
The audience sat in silence, appreciating the beauty before them, each devouring the visual splendour, soothed with the delicious whimpers of arousal drifting through the room like the softest notes of music ever played. The starlet could not stop herself from whimpering and moaning with pleasure while the silence of the audience – locked in awed concentration – seemed to amplify the sound of every wet slap to her pussy. Every stroke and teasing touch made her shiver in need for more, yet she knew that the teaser was not here to give her such relief: the audience was here to see much more.
The teaser knew just when to hold back and just when to push a little further, just when to nibble the girl’s pussy lips and just when to push forward and suck on her clitoris hard. The only time the audience made any noise was when murmurs of appreciation spread amongst them once the starlet began to beg. This is exactly what the audience had come to see, desire at its rawest, at its purest, at its most intense.
Just another couple of hours and then the new year. Just another couple of hours… and then you’ll get what you need.
What started as a simple challenge had become a battle of wills. Hearing the moans, the desperate cries for release, made it so much harder to hold on. The biggest rule was that when somebody called out that they were about to come, the other person must stop and let them rest, no matter how tempting it was to make them go over the edge. They all agreed that nobody could climax until midnight, until it was the new year. Anybody who failed to hold back would spend all of January in a state of denial.
You close your eyes for a moment, as if to shut away the onslaught of imagery that tempts you, yet all it does is make you focus on the sensations driving you closer. You open them again and simply look around, trying to take your mind off of the mouth that is working you to the brink. Watching a couple suck each other does not help, seeing the woman on top wrap her lips around that pulsating length while her lover does all he can to frustrate her further. With her legs straddling his head, he grasps her ass while continuing to suck her clitoris, as if pulling her closer and letting her know that she isn’t going anywhere else until one of them gives. It won’t be long until he begins to pump his hips up and down, then she’ll know that she has him right where she wants.
You gaze around the room as you feel your own impending orgasm wreak havoc, wanting so desperately to just give in. The sounds of sex continues to pour fuel on the flames; the wet slapping sounds of skin meeting skin, the aching moans of desire echoing throughout. Women bounce up and down on the laps of their partners, feeling every inch twitching within at the moment they are told to stop. Those mischievous grins signal that they want nothing more than to just jerk their waist up and down once more, to force that stiff length to convulse in pleasure and see their man cry out in orgasmic joy. Yet still midnight is some time away, more time to keep those stiff cocks swollen and in need for more.
You want to come so badly, for that mouth to just bring you over the pinnacle, yet you hold out… soon you’ll get what you need. Your attention is pulled to a woman screaming out as her pussy is devoured, letting everyone know that she can’t take it, that she just needs to come. The woman between her legs looks up and tells her no, that it isn’t time yet. A shiver of arousal runs through your spine at hearing those words, then seeing the woman lean her head down and begin again. The way she is lapping away at the woman’s dripping pussy makes it clear that she is taking much delight in evoking such moans and squeals of frustration.
Various couples look into one another’s eyes, as if feeding off of their arousal and trying to will the other to give in, to succumb to their desires. It’s so erotic, to know what they are all feeling, to understand that deep, bubbling climax is ready to spill over and gush forth, to know that it is their own body that is doing this to them.
You feel your orgasm taking hold, the fight between wanting to hold back and recover, and wanting the mouth to never stop tormenting you. Everything within yearns to just let go as the countdown begins. Ten seconds is all it will take… yet the tightening in your core, those little tremors within, telling you that you may not last. The fireworks are about to go off. Ten… nine… eight… so close….
Surely a video of somebody else, a doppelganger of your own quivering body, yet you know that it is yourself you are seeing, turning to the side and watching the footage on the screen as if watching a stranger writhing with need.
It is these short moments of rest that linger the most cruelly; you know by now that begging for them to give you what you need so badly will do nothing. You can merely turn and watch yourself from the angle of the recording, watching them zoom in and adjust the camera filming every moment of your blissful suffering. You have long since given up the struggle of pulling on the restraints; all efforts are focused on the pulsating desire within you.
You had agreed so naively, thinking it would simply be a little erotic fun to be filmed, thinking it would just be something arousing to masturbate to in future. The joy of having pleasure being focused on you, something that had been missing in your busy life and hectic schedule. Yet now that seems so long ago, never had you realised that this coursing pleasure would burn so deeply inside, never dying down, simply simmering within.
From the moment your hands were tied above your head, it seemed as if it was their goal to tease you to madness. Taking turns, they made sure there was always at least three pairs of hands touching you at all times. The way their fingertips and palms worked so slowly seemed to stimulate your body as if you had never been touched before in your life.
For half an hour they tormented you, yet not even touching your nipples or clitoris until the final minutes. All the while they whispered into your ears, telling you exactly what the cameras were showing, telling you just how delicate the movements of your body are as they started to brush and flicker over those most sensitive little peaks. In the last seconds they finally brought you to the edge… then always left you alone, walking away behind the camera to leave you teetering cruelly on the pinnacle. One minute always passed, the camera picking up every display of uncontrollable longing, then another thirty minutes of relentless teasing… on and on until this point in time, where you feel as if your throbbing clitoris is the only thing in the room with a pulse.
They toy with you in unison, an orchestra of pleasure playing your body like an instrument, leaving you to watch yourself bucking your hips up and down with need, silently screaming for the climax. As you writhe in tortured pleasure, you think about what they had just whispered to you: that in one minute you should keep your eyes on the screen to watch yourself as a mouth finally sucks against your clitoris. A shiver runs through you at the thought.
Any second now, a tongue will find the pulsating, agonising beauty of your tender cherry.
On the night of Christmas, she came to grant his wish, though it would last far beyond merely just the night. Awakened from such a gentle sleep, already fully strapped down and helpless for his dream situation. She said nothing, there was no need, her touches would convey everything needed. Every year she would fulfil a lucky man’s greatest desire.
Just the lightest touch from her felt like an electric shock of sheer ecstasy, so intense that he was almost worried how it would feel once she pressed her entire hand around it, or even her mouth. He’d soon find out though that her sexual power was far beyond what he’d ever have imagined, that there would be no way of coming until she willed it upon him, no matter how much he could take. When he started to beg and shout out for release, the only response he’d continue to be met with was that same lustful gaze. She could keep him safely erect for as long as she desired, that would be enough to communicate her intent.
After the hours passed, in those brief moments when he could think of anything except the agonizing need for the orgasm trapped away, in the spare few seconds not spent hopelessly pleading with her to let him come, he wondered whether to call her an angel… or a demon.
I remember you telling me how wonderful that slow build up was, how intensely it made you come. That’s something I’ve been picturing ever since you first mentioned it, the way you must have shuddered in pleasure, the way your back must have arched while you convulsed in bliss. All while those soft bristles pressed so delicately to that tender clitoris. So much time spent unsuccessfully trying to have that paintbrush press a little harder to that swollen jewel; finally the speed and pressure was just enough to topple you over the edge of an orgasm.
I would love nothing more than to feel what it’s like, to have something so soft and delicate constantly teasing something so precious and sensitive. The way you moan, the way you writhe, the way you beg – I’ll use all of those to gauge just what it’s like now that I have you here. The restraints will show you just as much mercy as I will give: keeping you trapped within this realm of frustration.
I’m going to keep sweeping this brush back and forth until I know your body can not feel any more in need, until you’ve begged so much that you’ve lost all hope of mercy. These gentle strokes: not enough to let you come, but just enough to keep you teetering on that bring, to keep that climax constantly simmering. You can pull against the restraints as much as you want, I’m not speeding up. I love how your pussy seems to blossom for me, getting so swollen as those tender lips open up, trying to invite me to give it so much more; all while your clitoris pulses in desperate need. The perfect picture, one that I want to keep in sight for as long as possible.
Never had she expected that a little game they had played during a night out would come back to haunt her, yet here she was, tied spread-eagle to the bed at her housemate’s mercy. ”30 minutes for every guy who buys you a drink.’’ It hadn’t seemed too dangerous…
The mark of a believer, all the proof he needed that this girl was the one he was after. Having shared much company together, becoming comfortable enough to send one another more and more racy pictures, his patience had finally paid off. Finally this mark on her arm signified what he had expected: this girl must know the whereabouts of the relics that the mark of the Deathly Hallows signified.
When he arrived at her house he played it coolly at first, she was already waiting for him, stripped down to only her pretty white lingerie, her tattoo proudly displayed on her arm. His lust for her nearly overcame him, wanting to quell the desires she was so clearly displaying, yet he kept his mind on the task, ready for the right moment to reveal his true intent. Having spoken with her for a long time previously, he knew that she had been in a state of orgasmic abstinence, having wanted to make this moment so much more intense for herself; now he was going to use this to his advantage. In such a state of longing, having spoken of finally meeting for a sexual encounter for a long time, she let him restrain her, shivering in anticipation of such pleasures he could give her while helplessly spread-eagled within the magical bonds.
He teased her with his fingertips, wanting to really work her up before revealing his true intentions. His tongue danced along her cleavage, down her body, trailing between her thighs, his nose pressing gently to the delicate plumpness nestled against the soft white cotton. His tongue then trailed back up her body to circle her nipples. Taking his wand out of his back pocket, he gave it a slight flick in the air; the movements of his tongue – slow circles around her stiffened peaks – seemed to continue without his physical presence there. She arched her back and moaned as the sensation of that tongue licking around her nipples continued, a ghosting effect which did not stop. She told him to hurry up, that she wanted more, yet still he took things slowly. With a trace of the wand down the slit of her sex, so visible beneath the thin lingerie, he made her pussy tingle with intense arousal as the sensation of a single fingertip stroking up and down continued… again without his physical contact.
It was only then that he told her why he was here, that he wanted the whereabouts of the Deathly Hallows. She thought he was joking at first, unable to suppress a moan as her body continued to pulse with need. In response, the man – now sitting between her legs – simply flicked his wand again in the air and muttered something she could not hear. With another flick, the speed of the movements of licking and stoking to her body increased, bringing so much pleasure yet nowhere near enough to give the orgasm she had gone without for nearly three weeks. He repeated his question, this time the writhing girl simply told him she did not have any idea, and that she merely is fascinated by them, before sighing in pleasure. Unfortunately for the helpless girl. he did not believe her.
With a swipe of his wand, her lingerie, which was soaked with her arousal, tore to pieces. He knelt forward and began to tease her sex with his tongue, replacing the sensation of being stroked. Up and down that tongue slipped, tracing the softness of her swollen pussy lips, teasing the stiffened little nub of her clitoris. Only when she started begging for him to let her come, urging him that she truly didn’t know anything more about the Hallows, did he turn up the heat.
A murmur and a swish of the wand, then finally his mouth clamped to her sex, eating her out fiercely… yet something was different. Even though she was in so much need for this after the duration of abstinence, the sensation was still so much more intense than she had ever experienced from someone going down on her. As he sucked and licked, feasting on her pussy like it gave him strength, she realised that the sensations seemed to increase every moment yet still she would not come.
It became too much for her, yet there was no escape, as much as she begged and strained against the ropes, it would not stop. She only stopped screaming for her orgasm when he suddenly stopped and spoke, though even with his lips removed, the feeling of him devouring her pussy continued. With a cruel smile, he told her that a spell had been cast on her that would prevent any orgasm until it was lifted by him. He had also then placed a charm on her body that would cause a rippling effect from any stimulation applied; the feeling of his tongue on her pussy would repeat itself, with any further stimulation also repeating itself, causing for his bout of feasting on her pussy to have resulted in a tidal wave of non-stop pleasure. This combined with her inability to climax resulted in an excruciating torment of being unable to orgasm from the kind of pleasure that would have had her coming over and over again in seconds. She was trapped between two spells which were causing her unbearable pleasure beyond any realms she had thought possible.
No matter how much she begged and screamed that she knew nothing of the whereabouts of the Hallows, he would not relent. She could barely form words through the constant torture as he simply watched her body convulse on the constant brink of an orgasm which would not arrive. He did not tire of this display of beautiful agony, casting further spells to perhaps make her give in: a spell that made her clitoris vibrate constantly, a spell that made her feel like her g-spot was being sucked directly, all while the sensations of being eaten out intensely continued to amplify across her dripping wet, engorged red sex.
Only when he finally cast a spell of pure pleasure on her, the direct opposite of the Cruciatus curse, did he realise she couldn’t possibly know. After all that teasing and torment, the feeling of a curse that would instantly make her climax, yet not being able to, took her breath away. When he stopped to let her breathe and she still did not give him the answer he wanted, he knew she could not possibly know a thing about the Hallows’ locations. Nobody could handle such an onslaught of agonising pleasure without giving in, he knew that from experience. He still however used the curse on her for another long while, enjoying the look of tortured ecstasy on her face, those wonderful desperate pleas for mercy. The dual torment of unrelenting pleasure and the inability to climax, such an exquisite feast of over-stimulation.
Little did she know that through all of this, one more surprise lay in store; once he removed the spell to allow her to orgasm, all of the orgasms that had been denied will have stored up, ready to be unleashed on her in succession. Once the cruel man had taken his fill in denying her further, she was going to have to endure a constant stream of orgasms without rest. He wondered just how many times she had been denied an orgasm throughout all of this, the thought made him smile as he uttered the incantation.
Waking in the brightly lit cell, she had no idea where she was or how she had came to be here. An alien abduction? Kidnapped by scientists? There was no telling, all she could recall was last being in her room masturbating, having brought herself to the edge multiple times before finally about to give in to her overflowing need, suddenly everything went black: then she was here, body still glowing with the unfulfilled promise of release.
She was only half conscious of the surroundings, feeling lost in a hazy limbo, unable to even fully notice the mechanical tendrils that were wrapping themselves around her limbs. Only when the creeping tentacles crawled down within her underwear did she seem to regain herself, though it was too late to do anything about it; now the unknown tendrils were trapped within the confines of the material and against her delicate sex.
Laying him down on the table was easy once the zombie nurses whispered to him that he was soon to experience the delights he had written down on the haunted house waiver. The thought of having his cock teased without him being able to stop it aroused him greatly. Once they laid him face down, his cock slipping through a hole in the table, he sensed what was to come, particularly when they strapped the cuffs around his waist, wrists and ankles to hold him helplessly in place.
David still had no idea where his friends were even after spending the last ten minutes searching for them through the maze of pitch black corridors. He had welcomed the clutches of the performers once they found him, particularly once they started to strip him, though they never told him where the others were no matter how much he quizzed them. Just as he felt something touch his exposed manhood, speakers began to play the moans and screams of the friends who had vanished. Those sounds alone aided the slight touches in stiffening his sensitive length.