You knew it would be too much, but you still let yourself give in to your fantasy and make it a reality. The scenario you had chosen, ‘erotic forced orgasm ordeal’, would have been enough on its own, but agreeing to not masturbate for the two entire weeks before it was scheduled was taking it to a new extreme. You had barely managed to last more than one week in the past when you had imposed your own little denial sessions. Yet you still managed to claw your way through the full two weeks. The desire to touch yourself had been so overwhelming, the way your pussy always throbbed just a little, even at the slightest hint of sexuality in your day-to-day life. So much of the day was spent focused on that soft little area between your thighs and all of the things that could be done to it.
Once the time came and they tied you in place, you inwardly wished you had opted for the in-person session, just to feel those hands press to you, just for someone to do anything to you. Even if it were only going to be minutes before your orgasm, it was still not soon enough. You imagined to yourself that the ball gag was just to make sure that the organisers couldn’t hear your pleasure, a way to suppress their desires and ignore your pleas, to stop themselves from coming in and fucking you all night long. The thought had your sex dripping already.
Once the vibrator was set in place, you were left alone. You were so turned on that you could quite easily have come just from grinding against the head of it. It turned on before you could test that theory, however, and in seconds, you were screaming in your first orgasm. That pent-up orgasm that you’d been holding back for those weeks. As if every day of arousal had been stored for this very moment to explode from you fiercely enough to knock you out. The power of the vibrator took your breath away, leaving you very few moments to catch your breath as it continued its merciless work. It was so good it hurt, yet that orgasm did not subside, so drawn out and agonising in its splendour.
Now you know why you picked this scenario, wanting to feel all aspects of human empathy taken out of the equation, to live out your fantasy of being tortured with pleasure. This was torture. The way it was held in place so fiercely against your pussy made it so much worse. If only there was some give, maybe that would make it a little more bearable.
Even with your sex so sensitive, it continued to penetrate you to the core with those unforgiving vibrations. So sensitive, yet you needed more, and it was happy to oblige.
The second orgasm made you pull fiercely on the restraints, your body wanting to escape the torment that your mind was willing on. The next couple of orgasms, however, seemed to mesh into one. Just a barrage of over-stimulation that forced your tenderness to surrender to the orgasm. Having denied yourself for so long, though, you were more sensitive than ever. No amount of edging yourself and masturbating past your limit could ever have prepared you. The vibrator would not slow down or soften its touch no matter how much you began screaming out. Your only request was to be left until you were literally in tears of pleasure, then to be left for another twenty minutes after that.
While you feel the trickle of pussy juice along your buttocks, while your extremities shake against the restraints, while your clitoris pulsates in need to escape the onslaught, part of you wishes that your tears began streaming after just the first orgasm.
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