"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".
Even when it is just the slightest morsel of fabric protecting your delicate sex, once it is removed it feels like a new world of unbearably pleasurable stimulation. Once the vibrator buzzes against your now fully exposed, hyper-sensitive pussy, you feel a new dimension of defencelessness has been granted.
This is the new art exhibit which has stirred up a lot of attention for the gallery. Patrons can only watch this art instillation from behind a one way mirror while she sits restrained on the other side. There is much to admire about this astounding display of female pleasure, though the sense of interactivity also generates much delight for the visitors. The instillation – entitled ‘voir les anges’ – allows patrons to not only freely observe the artistry of female pleasure, but also contribute, using a switch that controls the intensity of the vibrator that constantly stimulates her.
This truly innovative piece not only captures the raw sensuality of femininity, it also explores the desires of those that observe it, exploring our nature to grant as well as deny pleasure. Restrained within the soundproofed room, this exhibit remains at the whim and mercy of human desire.
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.
The moment her legs were strapped apart, she knew there was no going back; every inch of her body tingled with anticipation for her gift. Finally, she was going to be made to succumb to pleasures beyond her most intense experiences. Hey voyeuristic longings and kinky desires all wrapped up in a perfect little package.
Feeling a sudden surge throughout her womanhood as they exposed her, the cool air on her hot pussy let her know that they could do anything they wanted: the thought made her shiver slightly in delight.
She had been told to masturbate to the edge in front of her lover’s gaze every night, holding herself back and showing how much she could control it; now she was paying for the mistake of giving in to her urge to keep going. She was not stopped, instead those hungry eyes fed on seeing her yield to desperation, already knowing how to punish her properly.
There was a sadistic glee in seeing her tortured with unyielding pleasure, a pleasure so intense it verged on pain. How those hips had rocked and swayed in pleasure when she came the other night, now she was being made to suffer, held immobile, desperate to thrust her hips and pull her body in all directions, yet unable to move an inch away from the buzzing torture device she once thought of as merely a toy.
“That’s it… you wanted to come didn’t you? Now you can have all the orgasms you want sweetie, plus you don’t have to worry about that powerful vibrator moving away from your pussy. It’s a good job I put the ball gag in, I’ve never heard you scream like that! Good girl, I think I’ll just sit here and watch you suffer from orgasm after orgasm…such a wonderful sight.”
“Oh you thought that was it, that it was going to stop just because you passed out?”
Forced orgasms were all she’d written, all she’d requested. She’d come to wish that she’d added a stipulation for it to stop. Yet there would be no escape. Even her own screams and pleas were not granted the freedom to escape her lips. The only thing that would escape her were the hopes of any mercy. She would simply come, and come, and come again.
ToysMultiple-Orgasms Bondage. Stephanie couldn’t decide what fantasy turned her on the most, the waiver form showing clearly that she had many desires on her mind. The Haunted House did not want to deny her any satisfaction.
When Stephanie and the remaining companions entered a room full of smoke, they all started to become drowsy.
“We need to get out of here,” yelled one of her friends.
As they all began to sprint through the room, a case of the blind following the blind as they aimlessly pressed onward, Stephanie became sluggish and fell behind, succumbing the most to the effects of the smoke which seemed to possess the quality of sleeping gas. Once the rest of the group exited the room, only just about making it out before giving in to unconsciousness, they realised Stephanie was gone. They did not dare venture back, leaving the sleeping girl to whatever fate the haunted house had in store for her.
He told her that he would bring her to the pinnacle of orgasm for at least an hour. The sensation was unlike anything; she simply giggled at first, unsure how to react to such sensations. After a while, she began to realise that this burning need would not simply fade, but by that time it was too late to stop…
As the second hour of denial passed, her giggles became desperate cries for release… cries for an orgasm that would not come. If only she knew how it felt to be trapped in this torment for so long before she agreed to it.