Futile.

Knowing the barrier of the fabric won’t let those fingers press right there.

Knowing those slender digits won’t apply enough pressure on your achingly in-need clit, or sink between your moist, swollen pussy lips.

Certain that you will not receive the friction you need or the intimate penetration that every inch of your body screams out for.

Certain that the pattern will continue, that those cruel, teasing fingertips will torment the gorgeously smooth mound of your femininity continuously.

Yet still, you thrust your hips up, rock your waist back and forth, as if it will make any difference. As if bucking and writhing will provide any relief or draw any mercy.

Utterly futile.

Content created by: PleasureTorture

“Remember what you told us, ‘Please don’t stop making me come.’ We have had to remind you for the last fifteen minutes of this request. You can struggle as much as you like, but we’re going to keep our promise to you. When you stop coming, then we’ll know it’s time to stop. But for now, it doesn’t seem like you are anywhere close to that point.”

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You couldn’t wait to be their model, every gorgeous line and curve forever gracing their canvas.

To be portrayed so helplessly while nature would not simply pose as the backdrop of your frame, but caress it, amplify it. 

When they began applying the oil to you in order to add that glistening sheen to the display, you admired their delicate touch. Once they began paying you so much more lingering attention, you couldn’t help but purr in pleasure. You tried to close your thighs a little tighter as if to quell the desire rising within you, though they told you not to, to embrace that sensation so they could paint you at your most erotic and sensual.

Those fingertips swept so tenderly across you, how you could feel the current building within, gliding along that stiffness, trailing across that wetness. You wanted them to do so much more to you, though they applied every last drop of the oil to your skin without letting a single fingertip sink within or press too intently. They simply left you internally begging for it.

You knew that once they began sweeping their brushes against the canvas, you’d feel like it was your own body those paintbrushes were gracing with their touch.

Content created by: PleasureTorture

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“Hi there,

It’s my girlfriend’s birthday next week, and she has always talked about how being teased by multiple people has always been her biggest turn-on. I thought I’d reach out to you all because she’s spoken about how exciting her past experiences with you have been. Could you help me make her dream come true on her Birthday?

I’ve got a lovely day out planned with her, and then in the evening. We were to use our bondage table to have a little fun. The idea I had in mind was to surprise her with all of you once she was restrained. Then you could have all the fun you lot want with her. You all should know how sensitive she gets, so this would be the perfect way to make her come more times than she ever imagined she could endure.

She had told me about how a couple of you had first introduced her to forced orgasms, so I’d make sure that I supply you with the toys to make it hellishly delightful for her. She’s told me so many times how much of a wish it is to be forced to come until she passes out, so think how fun it would be to do this with all of you at once, how overwhelmingly intense it would be. Those of you who are interested and can do it, please message me back, and we’ll make it the best birthday gift ever.

Kind regards”

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The hardness and the softness, that delicious friction, a slippery wet sensation of pure sexual delight. How the anticipation gives way to unstoppable urges, the way the pulsating heat invites and intoxicates. Every tremble and shudder, every pulse and twitch, feeling how deep he’ll be within her, feeling how softly she’ll wrap around him. The pleasure resonates deeper and deeper, thrusting and churning within, and that is before he is even inside her.

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10/31

Never a warning, never a sign of any change, yet it was always the same day: October 31st.

She always ensured she stayed at home, the intoxicating aroma of dread, arousal and anticipation in the air, keeping her in the house every night on this date as if a prisoner in her own home.

It was always the same pattern. She would lie in bed, drifting off into the arms of sleep, when the night was at its most still and silent, the moonlight always shining through as if to bathe her in the most erotic glow for the unseen intruder, a preemptive spotlight.

At first, it was simply a gentle tease, like the softest of fingertips slowly alerting her body, tracing up and down her frame and waking both her mind and senses. It brought about feelings that made her want to touch herself, though whatever it was, it never allowed her to do such a thing. It wanted her pleasure brought about by itself alone.

Not once was a sound made except for her own breathing. Even after all this time, she still couldn’t stop herself from calling out to it, even though she knew there would be no reply. That moment was always when things began to get too much… it always became too much by the end.

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Just close your eyes and imagine it. Every inch of your body explored until the lingering touches focus on those more delicate little areas, until those mouths press longingly against the little parts that make you shiver.

Just think of the sensation as each tongue worked in unison to bring you closer and closer. With your eyes closed, picturing the scene. You can almost feel how your hips would rock against such tantalisation, how your toes would curl, how your fingers would clench, trying to stay grounded against the weightlessness, the fluttering sensations that take hold. No matter how long you tease yourself with that image, it will remain with you throughout the entire day.

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