"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".
While she had trained for years to withstand all kinds of interrogation techniques, she was not prepared for this.
This wasn’t about finding out information, he could find out anything he wanted in mere seconds: this was simply about entertaining his own desires. After a while, she would be screaming out every secret of her organisation, telling them everything they wanted to know, begging for mercy, pleading for it to stop; he would savour every second of it.
Waking in the brightly lit cell, she had no idea where she was or how she had came to be here. An alien abduction? Kidnapped by scientists? There was no telling, all she could recall was last being in her room masturbating, having brought herself to the edge multiple times before finally about to give in to her overflowing need, suddenly everything went black: then she was here, body still glowing with the unfulfilled promise of release.
She was only half conscious of the surroundings, feeling lost in a hazy limbo, unable to even fully notice the mechanical tendrils that were wrapping themselves around her limbs. Only when the creeping tentacles crawled down within her underwear did she seem to regain herself, though it was too late to do anything about it; now the unknown tendrils were trapped within the confines of the material and against her delicate sex.
If only she could do something to stop it, to even be able to speak and beg for its mercy. The demon however would not even give the mercy of letting her scream out from the sensations tearing throughout her body.
The tape still covered her, the necessary markings to summon the demon. How foolish she had been. The spell-book had stated that it would grant her a single wish, yet occasionally the being repeated the same message it had used to greet her once she had summoned it.
“Pitiful human female, long has passed since I have bestowed gifts of power and wealth to your kind. You dare bring me back with such demands. Let this punishment be a reminder that I am not your lackey.”
Nothing other than this was conveyed. Unable to speak, the only sound in the room, when the message was not being relayed to her, was the slick sound of her fingers constantly stroking her overly sensitive pussy. The demon’s victim had no control of her movements, all she could do was think of how desperately she needed it to stop. For what felt like hours, she was forced to masturbate relentlessly. Each orgasm thrust upon her swollen red sex after the first few would have brought her to her knees, made her curl into a ball and try to recover: yet it kept her standing.
The demon could have done anything to her, could have terribly contorted her body or made her act out any number of horrors. Though it delighted in this instead, being able to relish in her sexual torment, able to feel the physical anguish brought about by an act that would normally comfort her. While she could not scream out, it could feel and almost hear the screams emanating from this human girl’s clitoris every time she was forced to orgasm, the swift strokes honing in on that spot and never ceasing.
The first few times left her breathless, having never played with herself beyond the point of coming once; it was a pleasure she could not have ever experienced under her own administrations. The rest of the night however was spent exhaling through gritted teeth, internally praying that she may be spared from more ceaseless torture. By now she had expected to have become numb from the over-stimulation, yet the demon must have been stopping her body from protecting itself in such a way. Her assumption was correct.
The relentless attention to that delicate little nub was unbearable. Every muscle strained in a futile attempt to stop the onslaught to her clitoris, hoping to surface from the sea of agonising pleasure she was drowning under. It felt so horrifyingly cruel, to take such a sweet sensation and use it against her in this way. If she could speak, she’d have pleaded with the demon to take her if it wished, to penetrate her and use her for it’s own physical pleasure if it so desired; anything to just stop herself from coming for just a moment. It would have been a little easier if this wicked entity was the one who was touching her this way; knowing that her own fingertips were the ones tormenting her pussy made it so much worse, so much harder to comprehend.
Finally, once she was sure that she’d perish if she were to orgasm much more, certain her heart would give out, it all stopped. She gulped for air, every orgasm had caused for her to struggle for breath, and not being able to scream or moan out made it seem so much harder to inhale or exhale. Suddenly, the demon spoke once more, but this time was different.
“Your punishment is not over. You wished to take from me a gift, yet instead I shall take from you. Your orgasm, humankind’s moment of utmost rapture; this belongs to me now. Only on this date each year may you ask for it back for one night, but to do that you must summon me, and again I shall have my way with you the same. Farewell… for now.”
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.
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.
If she knew what he really was, she’d have run long ago. A being from a world that see’s humankind as toys to play with. A being possessing powers beyond human comprehension. A being that takes pure joy in deriving torture from pleasure.
It was the sensitivity within her body he could read that drew him to her as much as her beauty. Once he honed in on her at the club, there would be no way she could ignore that seductive gaze, an aura that seemed to hypnotize her.
Every part of her skin he touched seemed to light a fire of desire in that exact spot. She needed so much more. The more of her he touched, the more it seemed to intensify, like an electric surge of pleasure constantly sizzling throughout. It was like a magic touch; if only she knew. All she knew was that she needed him to touch her everywhere, to be inside her. At first she felt like the one in control, just as he wanted her to feel. When he was inside her, it was as if every fantasy in her life, every wet dream and sexual desire, had all built up to this moment as if preparing her for the ultimate pleasure.
His length seemed as if it were the only thing her pussy would ever need. No other man, no other toy or vibrator, had even come close to penetrating her or hitting that spot the way this was. The moment she was close however, was when something felt strange. The millisecond before her orgasm took hold of her, he pulled out. Yet instead of it stopping, the pleasure seemed to trap her. It still felt as if he were inside her, every inch pressing perfectly against her every sensitivity. She could not fathom what was happening, yet she couldn’t move or make a sound. Not because of any further spell by him, but because the sensation she was feeling was incomprehensible. Not even a minute passed before it was an unbearable hell. He had trapped her at the moment of climax, locked within that final convulsion before the pure joy was unleashed.
He simply sat and watched, enjoying his work. This was what he took such delight in, seeing human females brought to realms of unbearable pleasure. While gazing at this beautiful sight, he’d have told her that he may keep this going for hours if he desired, though she was too trapped within her hellish mixture of rapture and agony to hear or respond to anything. A minute hadn’t even passed, yet she was already in tears from this horrific limbo of denial and orgasm. It was like being forced to orgasm constantly, though without there being a true beginning or ending to the orgasm itself. That first single climactic surge, frozen in time.
It wouldn’t end until he penetrated her again. He was in no rush. This time of year, when his kind could roam freely around humans, only came for a few short weeks. He was going to make the most of it.
Overcome by a sudden urge to pleasure herself, Melissa stripped and began stroking her sensitive pussy like her life depended on it. Even though it usually took a while for her to get into things and start to get close, this time it seemed like the flames of orgasm were rising within the very moment her fingers swept over her delicate mound. She couldn’t believe how wet she was, yet there was no time to ponder what had caused this outburst of desire, all that mattered was that she came.
It was mere seconds for her to feel ready to come. Minutes soon passed. Still there was no end, as if she were trapped in that same cycle of arousal with no outlet. No matter how fast she stroked or how intently her fingers pressed, whether she slid inside or just honed in on her clitoris, Melissa could not overcome the pinnacle. The more she tried, the more she needed it, like a well of pleasure with no limit to what it could hold. She had no idea how long she had been masturbating, but tears of frustration began to form. It soon seemed as if every sexual scenario and erotic fantasy had been cycled through her mind. Nothing seemed enough to tip her over the edge.
It was too intense of a need to give up, yet when she decided to try and have a moment of rest, to see if a break would help, that was when she realised that she couldn’t stop. As hard as she tried, her hands would not pull away. Over and over she willed herself to relent, all to be met with the same constant friction against her engorged clitoris. It must have been an hour of being held in this state, sweat lining her body and her pussy dripping a constant stream of arousal. Once she had given in however, when it wouldn’t have mattered if the entire neighborhood walked in on her and watched, that the words formed in her mind.
“Such a luscious feast to delight in. Do not fight against it Melissa, as I will reward you with that which you crave.”
The voice seemed distant, yet it was whispered to her as if a thought within her own mind. While her eyes remained closed, Melissa could feel a presence above her, a presence which seemed to communicate with her own thought.
“Yes, I am controlling your every movement and sensation. No, begging will not help you. You will not come, Melissa, until your pleasure has satisfied my appetite. I have not fed in quite some time. Patience.”
With that, her arms and legs were spread out as if entrapped by restraints. While her own contact with her sopping wet pussy had ceased, the pulsating sensation of being on the brink did not. Neither did the constant contractions of need or the twitching of her swollen clit. This Being which Melissa could not see was able to read her every thought, thus sensing every minute sensation. It was these pleasures that it fed on; tonight it was going to gorge on her. By not letting her come, it could take all the time it wanted. Letting the pleasure seep as if whetting its appetite, suckling on every drip of sensation like it were lapping away at the torrent of her flowing pussy juices.
Honing in on her deepest fantasies, the feeling of multiple hands massaged every inch of her body. Always stopping just a hair’s breadth away from the sensitive spots that needed to be touched most. Her nipples, which soon were screaming for attention, soon got what they needed once the possibility arose of her coming down from the highest points of frustration. Keeping her so close to the edge without relief, a pull on her nipples made her arch in shock. The Being could read everything her body needed to stay centered on the verge of orgasm. What felt like tiny tendrils snaked around her nipples like a lasso trapping them, pulling ever tighter when she became accustomed to the sensation. Suddenly, what could only be perceived as an oil dipped paintbrush, or even wet silk, was slipping over the tips of those painfully stiff nipples. Melissa cried out loudly, partly at what could be felt right then, but also at the thought of how horrifyingly wonderful this would feel on her clitoris. She wondered for a moment that there would be no way it could stop her from coming then, maybe even the chance to will herself to climax.
“Do not underestimate me, foolish girl.”
At that moment her clitoral hood was peeled back even further to expose the entirety of that tender morsel. Melissa then let out a scream that seemed to never cease, wailing into the blank void until she couldn’t tell whether the screams and whimpers were being vocalised or just in her head. All caused by the feeling of a single tendril wrapping around her exposed clitoris and kneading it constantly. She could not believe that she wasn’t coming just after the first second of this torment. The telepathic being was able to keep her in this state, for as long as it wished to feed, with no mental or physical harm. After hours of this torture, it was ready to enjoy the main course.
“Such a delicacy.”
Melissa wasn’t able to tell the difference whether the sensations were physical or just implanted through her mind, yet when a tentacle plunged within her depths, the reaction was the same. Every inch of her body seemed to freeze in shock as the orgasm was thrust upon her with no warning. The tentacle itself was covered in nubs that vibrated within, pressing against just the right places. It twisted and writhed within her in ways that made her body erupt. This was clearly not about simulating sex, this was all about bringing her to heights that would have made any other human faint if not for this thing keeping her constantly awake and aware. To keep itself fed, it was not going to ever let Melissa have the mercy of unconsciousness. The being fed on her pleasure joyously, her climax a most fulfilling feast. It made her come again, then again, until she could not even think. A world populated by nothing but the most intense of pleasures. Every time it seemed like the sensations would cease a little, The Being switched its methods, changing from caressing her nipples and clitoris to sucking them within silky wet mouths. Pinching, tweaking, thrusting and massaging, always stimulating and never subsiding.
“I think I’ll be full in a few hours.”
Even through the confines of her orgasmic hell, it made sure Melissa understood precisely how long she’d have to endure this.