Bruc3 – Release

“Pl- Oh fuck. Oh Go- Mmmmmnnnn I-I- Fuuuuuck. PLEASE! Please, please have mercy. Have mer- ahnnnn God. I can’t… take… it. It’s December… it’s December… Aaaannn…. Please. I’m dying to come… Mnnnn fu-fu-fu…. FUCK! LET ME COME!!!”

November had already long passed, yet still, she hadn’t felt the welcome relief of orgasm at the hands of her metallic companion, Bruc3. The first few days of December were a write-off because she had to let him charge his batteries. Even though she masturbated vigorously during this downtime for the machine, she wasn’t able to bring herself to orgasm without the intense stimulation that she’d become accustomed to. All these first days of December did was frustrate her even more.

For the following days, once Bruc3 was charged and active, the machine simply continued where it left off, teasing her daily yet not letting her climax.

“All readings indicate that you are at the highest point of arousal when you know that you are not going to be allowed to climax. I will ensure that you are granted your orgasm when the time is right. You are most receptive to having me in control, aren’t you?”

While she could never deny that it was maddeningly erotic to have this machine now in charge of her pleasure, she felt like she’d go mad if she was forced to endure another month of being teased without being allowed to come.

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Patience

She wondered to herself, ‘Was it worth it?’

An eruption of pleasure. Twenty seconds of ecstasy. Her body was seizing, a sense of weightlessness, grounded only by the pulsating pleasure originating between her legs and spreading throughout every inch of her body. For that brief moment, Mia was no longer a solid being but a liquid entity unable to be contained. Only once the tide receded did she realise what she’d done and what was to come.

‘Was it worth it?’ – Seconds before Mia’s orgasm, and certainly during it and for a minute afterwards, she’d have said, ‘Yes!’

Now that Mia was suffering the consequences, ones that she had agreed to if she dared climax without permission, she’d argue that it wasn’t worth it. Not worth the need that coursed through her. Not worth the desperation that clouded her mind and sapped her body.

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The Masseuse (Part III)

If they both knew how much they’d be internally screaming out with need for an orgasm, they would never have denied themselves throughout November. It seems foolish now to have passed on the opportunity to masturbate when these skilled hands tormented them beyond reason.

The man’s entire body was already tingling with anticipation when he had first arrived; his mind was too focused on the pleasure to come to pay much attention to the second massage table in the room. He was asked to undress and lie on his back. The moment he stripped and laid down, the masseuse instantly returned and began caressing his upper body. His lower body remained covered by a towel. Even though the masseuse’s warm, oil-coated hands massaged only his shoulders and chest, his length instantly began to stir. The month of abstinence – two months total without a full orgasm – meant that all he could think of was the masseuse’s hands reaching under to stroke his cock. Just thinking of her stroking him, sucking him and riding him instantly sent a surge through to his manhood. He wanted her to whisper to him that she was going to fuck him, to impale herself on him, that knowing how desperate to come he was made her wet just thinking about, and how it aroused her to fuck men in this state.

Instead of fulfilling his fantasies right away, the masseuse simply continued to massage him wordlessly. Even the previous sexual audio, which filled the room with moans and cries of ecstasy, was absent.

Just as he began to wonder why things were so different and why the masseuse’s previous accomplice wasn’t present, another person entered the room, followed by the accomplice.

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The Masseuse (Her November)

(His November)

Another person’s fingertips trailing over her body is all she craved. She’d happily give up a month of masturbation in order to feel the sensations she had enjoyed at the massage parlour. The prospect of submitting to the stimulation in that way, with every touch and every caress focused solely on her, was too enticing to pass up.

The ruined orgasm played on her mind throughout November. For the first couple of weeks, she focused on the frustration, how her pussy convulsed in longing for so much more and how the sense of emptiness that the ruined orgasm brought remained with her. She wanted those cruel fingertips back where they were, teasing her clitoris and penetrating her intensely, squeezing around them as if it were her body pleading for them not to stop fucking her.

For the last couple of weeks in November, she instead focused on the joy that even the ruined orgasm brought. The sensation of pleasure lifted to the surface, and the jolts of ecstasy that slipped through the cracks of frustration.

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The Masseuse (His November)

The Masseuse and The Masseuse Part II

One month, that’s all it would be. He thought it would be difficult, he never expected it would be hellish.

It would have been so much easier, he thought, if his last orgasm was at least fulfilling, at least truly enjoyable. Instead, the masseuse had ended with a ruined orgasm, dashing hopes of a pleasurable climax before sending him away with the instruction to go a month of denial before returning. All he needed to do was get through November, and finally he assumed he’d get the orgasmic release he needed.

He longed for the massage table, to feel the masseuse and her apprentice’s warm, feminine hands caress his naked body. It was extremely difficult to abstain from touching himself at night when that was all he could picture. The way their hands coated him all over, how soft their palms felt against his throbbing member, how teasing their fingertips were each time it twitched.

Even work was difficult; as the days turned into weeks, it became harder to think about anything other than sex. Every titillating image or suggestive comment turned his mind to mush. It was as if, within the first week, he realised just how much free time he had, even at work, free time which led to more fantasies churning in his mind. While the urge to masturbate at night wasn’t as strong as expected, the urge to watch porn was greater than ever. He avoided it to ensure he wouldn’t be tempted. He wanted to last the entire month.

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The November Study

Vicky had intended to see how long she could last without masturbating, a personal challenge to stave off her own desires, so when her university friends had proposed the idea, she was entirely on board: to go the month of November without allowing herself any sexual release. If only she knew quite what she was in for.

Being very sensitive to stimulation, Vicky had often found it difficult to hold back from coming. Even with several friends with benefits at her university who she hooked up with regularly, she still found the most comfort in her private moments of masturbation, which were numerous throughout the week. The prospect of holding off for a week or two seemed daunting yet rather erotic, having to endure an entire month sounded like nothing more than pure torture. She liked the idea of such a challenge.

Her friends had fit her with a special heart rate monitor on both wrists, sealed in order to ensure she couldn’t remove either without them knowing. The devices would be able to alert for any spikes in heart rate along with being able to map out hand movement below waist level, ensuring they’d know within the month if she masturbated to orgasm. Vicky however had no intention of trying to cheat, she wanted to last.

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Under Mistletoe

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 massage 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 became 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.

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Forbidden Romance

Princess Sohia had quickly found that her fantasy and reality were not at all in sync. After the long and perilous journey from Helm to the Vaunt Empire, she was greeted not by the welcoming arms of her lover, but by guards and a swift imprisonment. 

“You’ll be sorry if you don’t release me. Prince Tobias will not stand for this, he’ll punish you once he finds out I’m here.” Her protests and threats meant nothing to the guards.

She had expected to be led to the Prince once she had passed through the gates to the great empire of Vaunt. While always seen as a hostile territory to her own Kingdom, there had always been a certain level of respect for the majestic stone architecture which encompassed the mammoth realm she was now a captive of. At once she was separated from her personal guard and led towards the central castle. Led to a cell and imprisoned within the dungeons, she had hoped that the next person she would  see would be Prince Tobias. Dangling from her shackled wrists held above her head, at the centre of the cell, Princess Sophia was approached by a group of women. With their plain white robes, she recognised these as the castle maidens. Accompanied by guards – who simply stood around the room and watched – the maidens stripped the captive and began bathing her. Sophia’s protestations did nothing to dissuade them. Neither the guards nor the maidens made any sound at all as sponges and hands soaped up and cleaned the completely naked girl. 

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