"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".
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.
‘Good girl’… the words you crave, those two words together that sets your body alight, that sends a shiver down your gorgeously curved spine, tingling in pleasure.
‘Again’… that word which feels so loaded with cruelty, with torture, with utterly tormenting ecstasy.
Your fingers feel so trapped under the delicate confines of your panties; the anticipation seems to smother you. Will you finally get the orgasm you crave or will you have to hold it back once more?
‘Hold it’… the two words that throw you into a new world of agonising bliss, making every muscle clench as you fight to keep that tidal wave of an orgasm bottled up inside you, waiting for how it will flood from you at any moment.
‘Come’… as it erupts from you, consuming you, constricting your body like a rope made of pure pleasure, ever tightening, you lose every other thought. After those first crashing waves, you know that no matter how intense the sensations, how much your body quivers, it will not be the only time you hear that one word.
“Tell us, where is she? We have the still images that were taken with you and Faith yesterday night.”
“I hope you enjoyed the broadcast.”
“You’re going to go away for a long time if you don’t cooperate. We’ve spent years working to take down your operation. Now, where is Faith?”
“But just look at that image darling, you can see that I wasn’t doing anything to her that she didn’t truly crave. I bet that when she infiltrated our lab, she was just praying that she’d be captured and taken by us. Just look at her face and tell me that this isn’t the expression of someone who is having every desire fulfilled.”
“Stop it! That drug you gave her-”
“Oh darling! It’s far too wonderful a creation to simply refer to it as a drug. Late-X is one of our most brilliant concoctions. She put up a little struggle of course when we slipped the latex suit on her, but doesn’t she look wonderful in it? Her gorgeous curves, so on display for you. Fuck – I just want to go back and make her scream all over ag-”
“Enough! What is the drug you gave her?”
“Don’t interrupt me, and I’ll tell you. So anyhow, when we slipped that enticing latex suit on her, she soon realised that our much coveted aphrodisiac was laced within. She squirmed and writhed as we restrained her. She tried her best to maintain her composure though once I brought out the vial of Late-X. We started the timer the moment I applied a drop of it to her clitoris, though she couldn’t understand the effects yet. She struggled to focus on anything other than the desperate need coursing through her body. You can see the delight on my face as I started using the toys on her.”
“So Late-X is another aphrodisiac?”
“Oh not at all. There was enough aphrodisiac in her outfit to keep her writhing and begging for attention for days. No – the effects of Late-X were apparent to her once I slid that dildo inside her and pressed the vibrator right on her pulsating little clit. With how desperate to climax she already was, she should have come right at the second the vibrator pressed against that hypersensitive little jewel. Just look at how her cute little clit is so eager for attention.”
“Get to the point!”
“Demanding aren’t you? Well, she tried her best to compose herself. You should be proud of her. Every other test subject only lasted a few seconds before they started screaming for their orgasm. She lasted an entire two minutes. The timer was set for ten minutes. Though once she realised what was happening, she let it all out. Pleading and begging non-stop… you see, Late-X keeps the victim unable to orgasm until the effect wears off, yet every sensation of pleasure is amplified. We have managed to measure the exact quantities needed for specific time frames – which is how we are able to count down the orgasm to the exact second. Impressive isn’t it?”
“You’re sick. I’ll make sure that we bring your entire organization crumbling down, you-”
“Oh darling don’t be so dramatic. Look at her expression – utter bliss. If only you could have heard how much she cried out for me to let her come. Her pussy just would not stop constantly dripping. I must admit, I almost felt sorry for her. Just that short time must have been hell; she wouldn’t stop screaming for me to show some mercy and let her come. She knew she was being watched, broadcast to so many eager eyes, she just couldn’t contain herself as you can clearly see- don’t you want to watch more of the footage?”
“…and once the timer hit zero?”
“She got what she craved. Though all the orgasms that had been halted over the course of that ten minutes, all of those peaks of ecstasy that were halted while I tormented her pussy, all were released in succession. Can you imagine the sounds, the shrieks of someone having orgasm after orgasm torn from them in succession. How she thrashed in the restraints, needing to escape the onslaught of pleasure that was torturing her. I can assure you, I was relentless.”
“You’ll pay for this!”
“Oh it didn’t stop there… I just had to do it again and again. Ten minutes every time. I think the worst part for her was knowing exactly what was going to happen, but unable to do anything to stop it.”
“Enough! Where is she now? What did you do with her once you were done?”
“Done with her? I don’t think you understand. You may have captured me last night, but in all the time you have had me here, you should have been looking for her. Since I had my fun last night, we haven’t stopped since.”
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.
You hear the urges in your mind as if they are my whispered instructions.
You want to give in to that warm depth, to sink within the delights of your own body; the urge to bring yourself to orgasm right now overwhelms you. Your body glistens, so sleek, soft, and wet, imagining these hands soaping up every inch of your body, sliding down smoothly between your thighs.
You see those ripe, swollen, shining breasts, thinking how slippery and supple they would feel within my grasp. The thought of them being groped and fondled sends a surge through to the peaks of your nipples.
You hold off for as long as you can, until your body screams for a deeper touch. Keeping those fingers working slowly, slipping to your depths and back out, you caress the soft wet petals of your entrance. Giving in to your own desires, the thought of being finger-fucked intensely seems to possess your body, as if it were controlled by my own hands, drilling you relentlessly. The swish of water thumps through the room as the wet slaps of your fingers penetrating yourself pushes your body beyond the abyss of pleasure.
Your body trembles as you fantasize of your body as a victim of lust, fingers that would be curling inside you and feeling the wet silk of your quivering sex, not stopping or slowing down as you shake in the waves of an unyielding orgasm.
The picture floods your mind… a hand pressed to your chest, holding you back, the other between your thighs, fingering you with merciless intensity, fingers curled and pushing up within you to make sure every stroke against the rough little patch of your g-spot makes you scream out. As soon as you come back to reality, you will want to disappear back to the confines of pleasure just as fast.
Every time you look down between your thighs, you will know that sweet pussy is mine to command, every whispered instruction will set your mind alight.
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.
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.
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.