A Tease

The slow, deliberate trickle of oil against your bare skin sets your body and mind alight. So smooth and silky, you know that those warm palms can feel the stiffness of your nipples beneath them. Just like you were told, you keep your hands up above you, purring in anticipation for what is to come…

Never have you felt so wonderfully powerless, so completely helpless even without restraints. Fighting the burning desire to move, fighting to keep your arms above your head and your legs spread; both your body and mind in a state of submission. 

Every movement like a mirror of the way you masturbate, the way you tease yourself; fingertips tracing under your tight panties, teasing your pussy lips, making them need more. It seems to take an eternity for those fingers to slide up your body, to feel the slenderness of your feminine frame.

Palms trail around what the fingertips most desire. Circling around your chest, continuously fondling your heaving breasts until your body is on fire, until your sex is begging for attention. Even a pinch to your nipples would be a welcome relief, yet still each touch seems destined to make you simply want more…

You writhe as the hands sliding down your body embraces your very being, caressing your sensual essence. The downward motion draws every sensation along your stomach, as if drawing the feelings of aching need away from your breasts, down to between your legs.

With your lingerie pulled up, the fabric becomes little more than an extension of your succulent pussy lips. A single fingertip traces along the outline of your entrance, over the sensitivity of your clitoris; a few seconds seems to linger for hours, wishing that thread of fabric wasn’t tormenting your pussy so much with its presence.

The oil seeps down your silk garment, making it cling to the soft curve of your swollen mound even tighter. The trail of a deliberate fingertip against the material feels like a lingering, silk scarfed tongue to your eager sex.

Everything behind your panties seems to pulse with need. The way your skin tingles all over merely from the caressing of your thighs makes you realise that your entire body is an entity of pure sexuality. You are a slave of pleasure, sex is you very nature… your body aches for it.

The more those fingers trace between your thighs, sliding along your confined sex, the more you want to scream out for those fingers to slide into you. Everything inside you wants to leap out and make your fingers masturbate yourself hard and fast… you know better than to give in, you live for this submission.

Finally, inch by inch, they slide off; whether it is from the teasing or perhaps from the restraint you are keeping on yourself, never have you felt so completely defenceless, so bare, so naked.

Every inch of you seems to centre in on your womanhood, those soft, swollen, wet petals exposed to the world. Still that touch avoids the centre of your desires, drifting around your pelvis, sliding across your thighs, making you thrust your hips for more.

Massaging against your mound, feeling the shapely curve of your epicentre. It seems to tease the base of your clitoris, filling your mind with nothing but thoughts of how many ways there are to pleasure you, to bring you to the pinnacle, to unleash the inferno that spreads inside. As you lay there, keeping yourself so helplessly spread out, you think to yourself that there is nothing else you could do to show how in need you are. That flat palm keeps spreading around your mound, teasing against your clitoral hood, making that stiffened clitoris want to pop out… it all makes your legs shake with need.

Your toes curl in pleasure while your fingers clench in desperation to keep your arms in place. So slow, so deliberate, the anticipation almost hurts; your clitoris seems to twitch just before that first moment of contact. The slippery wet tongue lapping against your sensitive, stiffened little peak. The first moments, such sudden, fast, attentive touches, make you shiver with excitement.

Slow, languishing strokes; in your mind, you do not know where your clitoris ends and the tongue begins.

You want to wrap your legs around and pull the sensation to you, to engulf your pussy in stimulation, yet you stay spread out as you have been ordered. The constant, calculated strokes up your wet slope keep you twitching inside for more.

Just like how you tease yourself… a fingertip slipping upwards, just flicking over the tip of your clit; the longer you held yourself back, the more intense those sensations felt, yet now that it is out of your control, that wonderful frustration has become a blissful torture. 

Time ceases to exist; you are paused in the moment, in the flooding need for more, lost in the rising tide of sensations which flow through you. You rock your hips, writhing against the unbearably wet sensation slipping up and down your tenderness. You try to ride it faster, yet the harder you try, the more it seems to torment you. You feel so lost and helpless, yet the presence of that lingering tongue seems to keep you locked in place, feeling that your body is always under control, even if the control is not your own…

Beyond masturbation, beyond foreplay, beyond sex itself… your body feels trapped in realms of pleasure that seems unending. You almost feel the eyes boring into the depths of your fantasies, feeding off the screaming lust that threatens to consume you. Looking down at the soft, glistening mound of your womanhood makes you feel so helpless, so open… yet also so free, so alive.

Over and over… that soft wet trail up and down, slightly parting your delicate pussy lips, making your wet entrance contract with need. The tongue constantly slides up your dripping wet pussy, more attention focusing in on your clitoris, each flicker of motion exposing it for that brief, wondrous moment that makes your hips buck more and more, as if masturbating yourself against that single point of contact.

Your position, your self-imposed bondage, falters for a moment though you correct yourself almost by instinct, your mind focused solely on the constant motion circulating between your thighs. Still that point stays still, leaving you to sway your hips against it, praying that the dripping wetness of your pussy on his tongue lets him know that you are begging for more…

Twitching in anticipation for those fingertips to slide inside you, feeling your entrance wrap around them so eagerly. They slide in and out so slowly, you buck your hips in frustration, trying to draw them in deeper and faster. You know that every sign of pure unrestrained need, every sign that you are fighting to hold control over your own body, is being savoured.

Toes clench as you writhe uncontrollably. Consistently in and out, your sex being explored in such cruel rhythm; the moment you feel yourself getting so close, feeling that explosive fit of bliss running through your spine ready to erupt, it stops. So slowly the fingers draw from you, the mark of your desire trailing from his fingertips. 

You struggle to keep your limbs spread as ordered, desperately holding back the desire to slide your hand down your body and explore yourself, to give yourself the orgasm you yearn for. Your tenderness seems to convulse on its own as that hard, throbbing shaft teases your soft, swollen slit.

The oil trickles down your entrance, making every muscle in your body tense in anticipation for the penetration to come. Just that tip buried inside you, it drives you insane for more… 

Basking in the aroma of sexuality, you submit to your every desire. It isn’t just the stiff length inside, sliding so rhythmically in and out, that melts you, it’s the feeling of pure loss of control that it brings… knowing that there is nothing you need to do except take the pleasures which are being thrust within you.

Feel your pussy lips being parted inch by inch… feel your delicate figure being fondled, being worshipped; right now, you feel like you are the very object of eroticism.

You writhe against that pulsating tip, bucking your hips to make the hard shaft grind inside you. As the friction against your sensitivity sets your body on fire, you realise that you aren’t even aware of trying to keep your hands above you in position; your body succumbs to its true nature, feeling the comfort of sensual domination against your submissive frame. You are a pleasure doll, a sex toy, a writhing, moaning work of art in need of an orgasm like never before. Even as you almost shake with need, you have never felt so perfect, so erotic… so in need to be fucked harder and deeper than ever. Feel it drilling you more intensely every second, slamming into you, knowing that he wants to make you falter, to scream out, to lose control… that thought alone of being such a sexual entity makes your back arch.

You feel it coming… that rising tension that seems to take hold of every muscle and thought…

The hard slap of his pelvis against your swollen, glistening mound. The deep pounding of his manhood, drilling you with brutal precision. The rough thrust of his masculine frame against your feminine delicacy – everything being done to you draws you towards that crescendo. Even though your self-sustained bondage holds true, the orgasm that builds is something that you now cannot contain.

Faster and faster, the penetration of your body overcomes you.

Perhaps your orgasm will flood you, where you will scream out and arch your body in bliss, leaving even your arms and legs out of control as you convulse and fold into yourself in ecstasy. Though perhaps you will not be granted that release, where it will stop instantly, leaving you dangling cruelly on that edge, with the agonizing knowledge that it will all start over again. Either way, you will be screaming out, lost in a world of pleasure like no other. 

Content created by: PleasureTorture

Image source from: 18onlygirls

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