The Mark

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.

Content created by: PleasureTorture

Submission by: realitykilledtherunway

‘The Darkest Arts: Sex Hexes Most Tormenting.’

They had learned many new incantations from the sex education classes, but this small group knew that there must be a genre of spells harvested from the dark arts to also try out… and so they were right.

The restricted area of the library was a treasure trove of wicked delights, though one book stood out, ‘The Darkest Arts – Sex Hexes Most Tormenting’. They were cautious at first, but upon closer inspection they realised just what kind of spells they were dealing with, and knew that they just had to master them and see them in action.

Continue reading ‘The Darkest Arts: Sex Hexes Most Tormenting.’