"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".
Well, I am one satisfied kitty. I just spent a lovely weekend with the charming pleasuretorture. It started with a nice chat in Starbucks, then a nice, slow introduction in the hotel room; massages without/with oils, teasing with feathers and paintbrushes, etc, etc. After he’d been very cruel in drawing out the frustratingly light touches, he tormented me with a lavish collection of toys while I was bound tightly to the bed by all four limbs. Various vibrators, a glass dildo (which he was very cruel with), Hitachi wands, etc. He’d bring me to the edge but never, ever enough to feel the slightest satisfaction or relief, constantly trapped in that tormenting, never ending pleasure. He was especially fond of teasing my entrance very, very slightly until I was squirming and pleading, until eventually fucking me hard with the glass one. I swear, I’d never moaned like that in my life! There was even a nice shared shower which followed an incredibly intense orgasm. We were surprised, apparently I’d been teased a lot longer than he normally would, so I was incredibly over sensitive – the chances of me cumming at all were very slim. But, I managed it! Yay me!!
After this (once we’d recovered of course), we had a nice roleplay session. I was a school girl who was in trouble for forgetting her kit for gym. So, I had to sit at my desk, in my underwear, and write lines while my teacher stood behind me, leaning down to whisper in my ear and touch down my back… well, I think we all know where this went. I was a bad girl who needed punishing. And boy howdy did I receive a punishing. I came again (whee!).
I also enjoyed the little photoshoot we had before we sadly had to leave the hotel.
All in all, a very enjoyable, intense and pretty darn awesome experience – one which I hope to have again very soon. 🙂
Every tender curve of your skin, the smoothness of your delicate body, the sweet softness of your sex, the way you moan with every surge of pleasure and cry out to the delicacy of every orgasm. It is as if every aspect of your sexuality threatens to consume you, the unyielding need to have your fantasies completely explored.
When you explore yourself alone, you stop yourself when it gets that bit too intense; as you slide your arms out and arch your back, you fantasise about what is to come, the thrill of allowing somebody else to push you further. The desire courses through you as you feel your wrists press together, waiting to be restrained, waiting to let the building passion inside you be released. There is a sense of freedom in allowing yourself to embrace new realms of stimulation. With every touch that feels too intense to bear and every orgasm that leaves you trembling in agonised ecstasy, there will be no way to stop anything… free to lose yourself in bliss.
You want to feel those hands being held back, feeling helpless – to have your sex explored beyond your limits and be pushed into heights of pleasure past your endurance. The thoughts alone seem to impact on every inch of skin, your imagination echoing along your body; the trail of fingertips tracing along your chest and down your cleavage, across your breasts, slowly down between your thighs. The fingertips give way to palms caressing you, the palms give way to lips pressing to you, and the lips give way to a tongue tantalising you. Something within you seems to melt – anticipation has such devastating effect.
Every morsel of you burns with a deep desire, the quickening beat of your heart and the intensifying pulse between your thighs. Your imagination is trapped within the writhing prison of your body. While your mind races with lust, a sense of weightlessness drifts over your skin, so beautifully designed to submit to the most intense of pleasures. You are free to give in to the experiences your mind craves.
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.
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 how many nights it has been, yet still they take 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 coping with the build-up of unreleased arousal.
She will have to go through it all over again. She prays that tomorrow night will be yield what she wishes for most.
A whimper of pleasure… a smouldering scream of longing. Every ounce of her despair, her sexual torment, resonates throughout the room, sounds which never penetrate through the mystically sound-proofed room.
Her hips remain held up by an unseen yet powerful grasp, keeping her so vulnerably on her front, completely exposed. Any time she moves her hands anywhere below her neckline, they are quickly pulled back up. She cannot see her tormentors, nor can she hear them, every plea and scream seems to fall on deaf ears as they continue to manhandle her like a doll. No matter how much she tries in vain to free herself, to move away, they hold her steady in the position they delight in, leaving her to simply rock her hips in dire need.
It feels like hours have passed, yet they show no signs of stopping. Over and over she is brought to the brink of orgasm by the merciless forces around her, showing no sympathy as she constantly begs to be made to come. At first she had tried to fight the ghostly advances, yet it took them little time to strip her, to ravish her, leaving her with solely the animalistic need brought to the surface.
Countless touches linger on her exposed flower, teasing her to the edge before the sensation of hundreds of tiny tongues encasing her peeled back, exposed clitoris makes her scream. Hundreds of flickers to her throbbing, aching jewel keeps her on the edge for longer than even the cruellest of fantasies could imagine.
No matter how much she screams out for the merciful release of orgasm, or how many tears of pleasure soaked agony line her flushed red cheeks, they do not relent. While they continue to edge her over and over, they are not gentle; sucking her clitoris so hard, exploring her sex so deeply, yet no matter how roughly they feast on her, they always keep her teetering on the brink.
Whether bringing her to the closest possible peak of climax repeatedly without rest, or holding her on the edge for longer than humanly possible, they never change their pattern or slow down, keeping her juices running down her thighs and dripping onto the bed.
Even through the sensations neither her mind nor body can comprehend or handle, the sweet relief of passing out is not granted. While she cries out, screams, begs and writhes her sweat coated body, they continue unhindered, not allowing for the inferno to ever dwindle.
This hell will be endured for as long as the entities wish, and they are in no rush. They have all the time in the world to deliver their sweet anguish… the anguish of being tortured by silent, invisible entities which cannot be touched nor pleaded with.
Lying there motionless even though every inch of you feels like it is trembling. You try to contain yourself, to take back ownership of your body.
You had expected a wild night out, but never did you expect to be taking someone back with you; there was an intensity to him that seemed to ignite your desires instantly. Once you were both alone in your room, it caught you off guard when he told you not to undress when things began to get heated. Even then, as your lips locked and your hands explored one another, you could sense there was a presence of mind to him unlike any other. There was no desperate fumble to disrobe you, no instant dash to penetrate you; instead there was simply the slow, attentive touch of someone who wanted to savour every moment.
The way he teased your body so effortlessly made your insides melt with longing: he seemed to realise this, taking your hands suddenly and tying them with his belt. You trembled as that feeling of pure submission washed over you, yet still he took his time, pinning you down and teasing through your clothes. Once his fingers slid under your panties, you cried out with pleasure, yet still he didn’t let you come, choosing instead to bring you close over and over again. The more you begged and pleaded, the more those fingers slowed down and explored at his leisure and delight. Your pleasure was his to command, and when he stood up to get the sex toys in your drawer, you knew that tonight you were going to climax harder than ever before in your life.