The Ropes

She knew it was hopeless, yet still she tried to reach down and stop the toy. Once again, just like it had done for the last 30 minutes, the ropes around her wrists and arms pulled her arms back up, trapping her further in place. The bright white sparks cracked along the ropes securing her waist and legs to the table as well as the vibrator. Perhaps if she had noticed these sparks on the toy and ropes earlier, she’d have been able to get away before they came to life and overpowered her.

No matter how much she begged and cried out, her seemingly possessed captors did not change their actions, keeping her tightly held in place while the vibrator continued to hone in on her overly sensitive clitoris. She wondered, while on the verge of tears as another brutal orgasm began to rise within, whether the old lady at the porn shop knew exactly what position she found herself in. The cackle from the elderly lady as she bought the rope and massage wand, she assumed, was simply at the prospect of knowing she was planning a little self-bondage play. Now she realised that the older woman must have known the spell on these items, that they would gain sentience and possess the sole purpose of torturing orgasm after orgasm out of her helplessly restrained body.

Naked and on her back, her ankles wrapped in rope and spread wide, her waist wrapped in rope to keep her held in place against the table, she was overcome by the pleasure. Her hips writhed in the air; her ass elevated as if willing the ecstasy to take her away from the predicament, a brief respite from the knowledge that the vibrations won’t stop once her climax subsided. She even hoped that her sensual moans, her erotic display throughout the orgasm, would somehow delight whatever controlled these objects enough to show a little mercy. It wouldn’t work. No matter how much she tried to pull her arms down and shield her pussy or move the vibrator away from her engorged and hypersensitive clitoris, the ropes encasing her arms merely pulled them back up helplessly above her head.

The silence made it worse. All that could be heard, aside from her own screams of agonising pleasure, was the constant hum of the vibrator mingling occasionally with the wet trickles as her pussy juices were flung by the vibration following every convulsion of her pussy.

It would have been easier if it were a person or something she could speak to or hear. The possibility that she could bargain or reason with someone, perhaps someone to take mercy on her, to empathise with her pleas and her tears that were signalling that she’d come more than she could handle. Instead, she was forced to endure the torture from these unfeeling, uncaring devices, animated and cruel.

However much she tried to pull her hips away from the device as she exploded in orgasm, the vibrator followed her every movement, training the vibrations against her swollen pussy to ensure that she never had a single second to rest or recover.

The sole intent of these inanimate objects come to life seems to have been to make her scream, and scream she did. She screamed through every orgasm and at the realisation each time that it wouldn’t leave her poor defenceless pussy alone.

Her muscles ached from the amount of straining and convulsing she endured while fighting against and enduring the torturous attention. She even hoped that her squeals of ecstasy and cries for it to stop might gain attention from neighbours or passers-by who might come and help. She didn’t care that she would be seen in such a state; all she cared about was that she wouldn’t be forced to come again, forced to have her poor clitoris abused by that relentless device. Help would not come, just as mercy did not come. Yet she would come… over and over again.

Only once her pussy was too overstimulated, once the sensations began to dull, would it stop. The ropes and vibrator would fall as if all sentience had left them as quickly as it entered.

Contrary to her thoughts and her pleas during her torture, now that she was free and had a few hours to recover, she had little intention of returning these to the store. She was curious when they may next come alive and pleasure her once again. She hoped she wouldn’t have to wait too many weeks to find out.

Content created by: PleasureTorture

Image source from: The Life Erotic