The Spy Costume

Another demand for the codeword. Another wrong answer. Another orgasm extracted from her convulsing body.

No matter how much she wept from the intense pleasure, no matter how much she pleaded with her captors that she wasn’t a spy and that it was just a costume, Harmony never received a moment of rest.

Since returning from the Halloween party and waking up to find herself in this strange lair, Harmony had been tortured with orgasms relentlessly while being asked for the codeword. Never in her darkest nightmares could she have imagined the warnings had been about waking up in this type of situation. Whatever concoction her captors had given her meant that not only was she horrifyingly sensitive to stimulation, but it also ensured there was no refractory period or desensitisation.

With her wrists tied securely above her head and her ankles and legs restrained carefully apart with ropes to make sure she could not close them, Harmony was truly helpless throughout the entire ordeal.

Vibrators were the implements of torture that kept the secret agent-clad woman straining madly to escape. Their task was to break her with pleasure. Her clitoris felt like it was trapped in a vice of sensation, held hostage and unable to break free of the vibrations that drove her wild. Even if she were the undercover agent she had been dressed as, she’d have broken after merely the sixth orgasm.

Once she realised that no amount of begging them to stop or tearfully explaining that this must be a mistake would help her, she began trying to provide any answer to their single question. They didn’t care that every forced orgasm was unbearable, that her body and mind could not comprehend the level of ecstasy unleashed upon her. Harmony gave every number, word and combination of digits and letters she could muster between every breathless moan and orgasmic scream.  Anything to try and stop the cruelty and orgasms that held her hostage.

Throughout every leg-shaking climax, Harmony desperately tried to pull away from the vibrators pressed between her thighs. They made sure that no matter how she twisted and swayed her hips, the toys followed her every movement and remained pushed directly to her hypersensitive pussy. The ropes that held her in place would not give any slack, ensuring she had to suffer every cruel second without the possibility of defending herself.

She came as she cried out any phrase to make it stop. She came as she babbled incoherently, lost in the maelstrom of rapture. She came as silence replaced the words her mind fought to release, overcome by the need to catch her breath between each climactic howl.

Harmony would come and come again. In place of mercy, she’d only be offered the same question. ‘What is the code?’

She received the same punishment every time she failed to give them what they wanted. Unforgiving and unyielding, the constant, powerful and focused vibrations kept Harmony bucking and shivering. Even when she began only responding to their question by stating that she could not come anymore, they repeatedly proved her wrong.

There’d be a time when the drugs would wear off, and she’d finally pass out from the overstimulation, and then she’d wake up in her bedroom. However, that would be another few hours time at least. Until then, her captors wouldn’t stop. Unless she perhaps managed to give them the answer they were after. Whichever one came first.

Until either of those two scenarios occurred, her screams of orgasm would go unheard outside of the interrogation room.

Content created by: PleasureTorture

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