The joy always lies in the thought of what is next.

Knowing that the vibrations will not yield, wondering how intense they’ll feel after the next few minutes.

Thinking of how you’ll possibly suffer through the next orgasm after how unbearably intense this one is.

Wondering just how sensitive your clitoris will get once the next wave of ecstasy threatens to drown you.

Aroused and terrified in near equal measure of how the device would feel if it pressed directly against your skin, without the barrier of the fabric slightly shielding it.

Curious when you might need to signal the safeword and whether the next orgasmic embrace will grip just that little too tightly. Questioning why feeling the restraints rendering you helpless makes the ordeal even more erotic, no matter how much you fight against them.

Continue to thrash and writhe and wonder; I’ll keep this right here and ensure that you find out very soon.

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I wanted him to restrain me and force me to come more than I’d ever experienced, more than I could ever make myself come.

I wanted to feel that vibrator grind even harder against my clit when I told him to stop, to feel that vibration punishing my pussy when I said it was too much.

I wanted to beg for mercy the way I imagine it when I’m masturbating. I just didn’t realise how intense it would be after the first time I came, how my body would be turning on itself for allowing it to endure this, the battle between what my body can handle and what my mind craves.

It was only seconds after asking him to please let me come that the words ‘please stop’ escaped my lips. With every orgasm, I’d ask it again, hoping that the words would take new meaning to convey what my tensed muscles and trembling limbs could not. I want him to feel for a second what he’s doing to me, to understand what I’m going through, whether that would make him a little merciful. To feel such pleasure that surpasses that moment of devastation and veers into agony.  

But the part that resides deep within, the part that imagined this while I masturbated and edged myself to the fantasy, that part wants it never to end.

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Ghostly Realty

She had tried for so long to sell the property, yet every time a buyer was on the knife edge, they backed out, leaving the residence in her hands yet again. After the situation repeated itself time and time again, she decided to finally look closely into the stories of it being haunted, which she had always laughed off.  After an entire day spent basking in the comfortable, luxurious mansion, there were no signs of any activity that could cause alarm. It was only when she decided to take a nap on the sumptuous leather Chesterfield that she’d experienced what so many before her had sensed.

Without even the slightest creek of the wood-panelled floor, the women materialised out of nowhere and weightlessly formed a circle around their sleeping prey. For so long they had driven others out of their dwelling in order to find those who would satisfy their appetite. To feast on the deepest of their prey’s fantasies, this one would prove to be a most fulfilling banquet.

First, they caressed her, their touches doing little to stir the slumbering female until their forms began to more physically manifest and present themselves upon her body. Once she awoke, she believed she was in a dream, able to notice the faintest transparency in the female forms around her while still in a daze. Only when they began to strip her did she realise it was reality, though it was too late. The whispers seemed to penetrate her mind, telling her that she was in no danger, that they merely wanted to satisfy her desires. Whether it was the way they touched her so tenderly, whether it was the fact that this was her innermost deepest fantasy, or whether they held some kind of power over her, she felt so calm and unfazed by the situation. Somewhere, there was a fear, a sense of unease, yet every time her mind tried to override her body’s passive state, the touches and caresses pulled her back within their grasp. Even when she tried to tear away from them just before she was stripped completely naked, the hands clasped around her and held her back in place, indicating that she could do nothing but give in; she knew then that she was theirs for the taking.

She wasn’t sure whether they could read her mind or her arousal, or whether they had merely done this so many times that they could play any mortal like an instrument, but every touch seemed to resonate more than what anyone had ever accomplished with her before. They teased and tantalised her with abandon until her hips rocked for something more. The female entities then took turns using the vibrator on her, continuously bringing her to the brink before backing off. However many times they had done this, they never grew tired of those beautiful moans, those delightful screams. Those sensations that they themselves could never feel again. It brought them a little respite to bring about such sensations that they could never forget. Trapped in a hell of longing, they would make sure to keep their prisoners in this state for as long as possible. To keep her in their snare of pleasure and to hear her constantly beg with need and then beg them to stop. All the while savouring those screams and moans of orgasmic anguish. The cycle continued; her body was pushed to the edge with the cruel agony of denial before being plunged into the abyss of forced orgasms.

She did not know which was worse, the need she felt when they kept her from coming or the torture of enduring that vibrator being pressed against her pulsating clitoris after she came again and again. Any time she tried to stop it, that inhuman grip held her in place and forced her to endure so much more. It was beyond too much, but she soon realised she would have to take it. Either she could give in and tell them to stop or withstand this constant barrage of torturous denial and forced orgasms, constantly keeping her locked in a cycle of begging for the other sensation to return until the end of the night. Even though it was too much, she did not want this living fantasy to end. Though she felt that even if she pleaded with them to stop, they would not grant her such mercy quite so soon into the evening.

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Laura volunteered for the Erotic Haunted House, wanting to make a little extra money as well as to have a little sexual fun. The thought of being watched by strangers while being teased and tantalised was so enticing. Yet while her screams at first were simply play acting for the guests passing by, after a little, they became genuine. The ‘demented nurses’ attending to her wanted to put on a show, so they made sure that they were going to give Laura forced orgasms in order to make sure those screams, those times when she was begging for it to stop, that it was too much, were all sincere.

Hearing this girl begging and pleading with the patrons walking by kept attracting attention and turned them on even more. The girls in control wanted to put on a good show. With Laura completely restrained and helpless, they were free to keep the powerful wand vibrators nestled against her swollen red pussy for as long as they desired. All Laura could do was pray that after they forced her to orgasm the next time, they’d let her rest. Maybe the next time… or perhaps the next.

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‘Erotic Forced-Orgasm Ordeal’

You knew it would be too much, but you still let yourself give in to your fantasy and make it a reality. The scenario you had chosen, ‘erotic forced orgasm ordeal’, would have been enough on its own, but agreeing to not masturbate for the two entire weeks before it was scheduled was taking it to a new extreme. You had barely managed to last more than one week in the past when you had imposed your own little denial sessions. Yet you still managed to claw your way through the full two weeks. The desire to touch yourself had been so overwhelming, the way your pussy always throbbed just a little, even at the slightest hint of sexuality in your day-to-day life. So much of the day was spent focused on that soft little area between your thighs and all of the things that could be done to it. 

Once the time came and they tied you in place, you inwardly wished you had opted for the in-person session, just to feel those hands press to you, just for someone to do anything to you. Even if it were only going to be minutes before your orgasm, it was still not soon enough. You imagined to yourself that the ball gag was just to make sure that the organisers couldn’t hear your pleasure, a way to suppress their desires and ignore your pleas, to stop themselves from coming in and fucking you all night long. The thought had your sex dripping already. 

Once the vibrator was set in place, you were left alone. You were so turned on that you could quite easily have come just from grinding against the head of it. It turned on before you could test that theory, however, and in seconds, you were screaming in your first orgasm. That pent-up orgasm that you’d been holding back for those weeks. As if every day of arousal had been stored for this very moment to explode from you fiercely enough to knock you out. The power of the vibrator took your breath away, leaving you very few moments to catch your breath as it continued its merciless work. It was so good it hurt, yet that orgasm did not subside, so drawn out and agonising in its splendour. 

Now you know why you picked this scenario, wanting to feel all aspects of human empathy taken out of the equation, to live out your fantasy of being tortured with pleasure. This was torture. The way it was held in place so fiercely against your pussy made it so much worse. If only there was some give, maybe that would make it a little more bearable.

Even with your sex so sensitive, it continued to penetrate you to the core with those unforgiving vibrations. So sensitive, yet you needed more, and it was happy to oblige.

The second orgasm made you pull fiercely on the restraints, your body wanting to escape the torment that your mind was willing on. The next couple of orgasms, however, seemed to mesh into one. Just a barrage of over-stimulation that forced your tenderness to surrender to the orgasm. Having denied yourself for so long, though, you were more sensitive than ever. No amount of edging yourself and masturbating past your limit could ever have prepared you. The vibrator would not slow down or soften its touch no matter how much you began screaming out. Your only request was to be left until you were literally in tears of pleasure, then to be left for another twenty minutes after that. 

While you feel the trickle of pussy juice along your buttocks, while your extremities shake against the restraints, while your clitoris pulsates in need to escape the onslaught, part of you wishes that your tears began streaming after just the first orgasm. 

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You have no idea how long I’m going to force you to orgasm or how hard I’m going to press the vibrator to your already oversensitive clitoris. All you know is that the longer I keep you on the edge like this, the more intense it is going to be. That wonderfully erotic mixture of apprehension and anticipation for how it’s going to finally feel, nothing is more of a turn-on. 

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She wanted to experience the most intense desire possible, to be utterly tortured with pleasure; she was going to get it. Restrained entirely to lock her into this prison of ecstasy, she could only shudder and writhe in response to the constant vibration radiating throughout her sex. The tape over her eyes kept her focused solely on the sounds of the earphones, the continuous sounds of pleasure, which further added to the torment. All she could do was picture the source of such sounds; women masturbating to long desired orgasms, men thrusting themselves deep into those hot wet little pussies until the soft slapping sounds of hard penetration unleashed their longings. 

The tape over her mouth, however, made the ordeal much crueller. While she could not plead or beg, even her moans were to be locked away. Any time she moaned or made any sound of pleasure, the vibrator was taken away just enough for the welling orgasm to recede before being placed back on her frustrated pussy. Being completely unaware of her surroundings and shielded from the external sounds due to the tape and the earphones, keeping herself in check was even harder, causing the occasional whimper of pleasure to spill forth. This, of course, meant her orgasm was itself prevented from spilling forth. Being so sensitive to the intensity of the vibrator, made even more fierce by the unspeakably erotic situation with which she was helplessly captive, the cycle seemed to never end. Finally, she had experienced the pleasure she had so yearned for, to be brought to the pinnacle of what she could handle, the utmost frustration of edging and denial. Though now she could not speak out or scream that it was too much, that she’d reached her limit, she was forced to endure it for so much longer than she ever thought possible.

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