Blindfold

Perhaps behind the blindfold, you imagine being on display, many surrounding you, so many hands and mouths teasing you as you sit helplessly.

Maybe you’re thinking of your latest fantasy while restrained, free within the confines of your mind to indulge in thoughts of being penetrated and explored so fiercely and thoroughly.

Feeling the restraints around your wrists and ankles, holding you in place, allows you to fantasise about being devoured while so confined. Fantasising about pulling on those cuffs while that mouth torments you so wonderfully, knowing it won’t stop no matter how much you strain and writhe.

You could even be thinking of being entirely untouched while others watch, simply basking in your exhibitionist fantasies as the same powerful vibration constantly chips away at your resolve. It is constantly just a little too much, yet you never want to give in. You never truly want it to stop, and the restraints help ensure you can’t out an end to it.

Or maybe you’re imagining being alone, no one else around, simply exploring yourself and letting the toy be the only thing between you and ecstasy. Your fantasies being fueled by the needs of your body, your need to traverse the heights of ecsatsy.

No matter what is running through your mind behind the blindfold, you’ll need to get used to the quivering, the orgasmic convulsion and the physicality of straining hard against those restraints while the vibrator stays in place. Regardless of what is on your mind, my goal is to compete with your imagination, and show you that me in reality wants to be far crueller to your pussy than whatever your imagination concocts.

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It is not simply a want or merely a desire. It is absolutely a need. The need to feel you at your limit, to know that you are experiencing pleasure that your mind craves yet your body struggles to handle.

The need to feel your sensitive pussy clench as your delicate body succumbs to the inevitable. The need to hold you back and make sure you fully endure it, to prevent you from protecting your hypersensitive clitoris from what you truly crave. The need to feel you trying to make me stop, yet never actually trying to get away.

The necessity to never stop hearing you moan and scream in ecstasy, to feel you shudder and shake in overstimulation. A need, an addiction, an obsession with your pleasure.

I need it just as much as you do.

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Comfort, security, warmth, relaxation… these are some of the most important aspects to ensure the most wonderful masturbation and pleasure. Comfort must be your reality.

However, in your fantasies, in your erotic imagination, you can concoct the most wicked and intense scenarios. When you next touch and tease yourself, you can imagine the helplessness, the lack of control. Restrained and unable to escape, unable to cry out or give any word or signal for it to cease. Trapped and helpless to do anything other than whimper, moan and cry in torturous ecstasy.

The vibrator pressed to your intimacy, unforgiving and unstoppable. Forced to endure orgasms that melt your body and sap your will. There is no mercy. There is no escape. The orgasms continue far beyond your ability to cope with them, far beyond your capability to endure the assault of brutal pleasure. Perhaps your fantasy pushes you further, not letting your fantasy self experience the relief of your sex becoming desensitised and numb to the vibrations. Instead, you imagine it going on and on until you see yourself passing out repeatedly from the cruel ordeal, always waking to the unending barrage of sensations drilling your body and punishing your clit.

Your reality is heavenly. Your fantasy is hellish.

You won’t feel any less comfort, yet you’ll feel so much more intensity.

As much as you try to match the pleasure of your fantasy in reality, you’ll always fail. Yet, the attempt will always be wonderful.

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That plump, delicate opening being pushed apart, such eager lips pressing against it, wanting to devour you. Teasing you ever so slightly, making you want them to clamp down just a little more, to suck just a little harder. The way that tongue seeks you out, needing to explore. So soft and slippery, so flexible and strong, holding you at its mercy, wanting to flicker against the most sensitive parts. Feeling every tiny quiver and then honing in to cause it further. The more I feast on you, the more I can draw out those little moans…

That’s how it feels up here. To think how it feels down there…

Content created by: PleasureTorture

Image source from: FemaleWorship

Your need is a reflection of my own.

The need to reach the pinnacle again and again. The absolute longing for a pleasure that is too much to bear. A desire to be helpless against that all-consuming ecstasy that burns so deeply.

Throughout every convulsion and twitch, through every shiver and shudder, you long for the type of orgasmic release that I could only dream of. Pleasure beyond my comprehension.

It burns too hot to clutch for too long. Yet to be shackled against it, to force oneself to press to it indefinitely. That is a pleasure I could not withstand. Yet, I will make sure that you withstand it… throughout every screaming, tortuous second.

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Uncertainty

It’s the uncertainty that gets you the most. Wondering whether this time, maybe this time, you’ll get to feel that orgasm. Just like how your own fingertips – your own control of the toy – still leave you unsure of just when; will you give yourself that mercy and let the orgasm overtake you, or will you keep going until your body gives out first, unable to hold it back?

The first time, just the slow and steady rise while your legs spread apart, exposing you. Perhaps your legs are pushed apart fiercely, letting you know just who is in charge, yet you keep them held like that, inviting the exploration. Maybe it’ll happen though, that little thought crossing your mind that an orgasm now would be the biggest shock. The surprise and urgency making it all the more intense. But no, not yet, of course. It pulls away. The first time is playful, teasing in the lightest sense of the word. After all, you aren’t begging yet. So much more time to feast on your pleasure.

The second time, that flutter of desire turns to a sting of need. Good girl, keep it going; we are just beginning. The way your hips just rock into the movement, how your nipples feel so stiff and tender against any glancing touch, your pussy so invitingly wet, your body just giving every signal that it needs it… but not yet.

The third time, that sting of need starts to swell to an ache. The little murmurs turned to moans. You know how those sounds turn me on, and you start to hope they make me show mercy. Deep down, though, you know they won’t; the more you moan, the more I want. The harder it gets, the closer you feel to coming, the more you know that you won’t climax this time. This time, when it stops, you start to ask for it; that’s when you know we’ve truly begun.

The fourth time, that ache of need turns to a burn, that sensation that fills you throughout. It won’t be quenched until you get it, and that’s when you start to plead for it.

Those fingers, those toys, are always able to tantalize you to the very pinnacle, working you like the finest instrument and playing the perfect melody. Right on the edge, if only something could press just inside, or just against your swollen clitoris merely for a moment more. But no, it stops once again, leaving you to beg. Such an erotic thing, begging someone to let you orgasm. Begging to be granted the wonderful release of pent-up pleasure that you need oh so much.

The fifth time, that burning torment turns into an inferno, a raging fire that consumes you. The feeling takes over everything. No longer fantasizing about the situation or scenarios that would turn you on even more – all your focus is between your legs and the joy which that part of you would feel if given the chance. Finally, you feel that little bit of penetration that you crave. This time you come.

Good girl.

Harder than you imagined, the surprise making you gasp as the orgasm hits so intensely. Then, just as you want more, it slows down, not letting you ride it out for as long as you hoped.

It’s the penetration that captivates you, the mixture of sensations that melt together. Your clitoris is on fire, but not one that you want to put out yet, keeping it going, stoking it further. The next time it stops, forced to edge again, it’s worse. Now that you’ve felt that heaven between your thighs, you have to have so much more. But still, you are made to reside on the brink again and again until you can no longer take it. Once it’s absolutely too much, then you’ll feel what you need most, and it won’t stop… but not a moment before.

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The preparation. Feeling every inch succumb, that mixture of softness and hardness, throbbing and pulsating. Getting it wet as if preparing it for your entrance, feeling it twitching in anticipation between your lips and imagining the feeling of it within your pussy. Every flicker of that tongue, each suction of that mouth, the constant slick gliding motion, hoping it feels as tortuously wonderful as you imagine. 

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Every little moan makes it somehow even stiffer, harder. You wonder if she can feel every pulse and twitch the same way you feel every convulsion of her pussy as she comes so intensely once again. You forget how many times you’ve reached the edge, how often you’ve come so close, that silky, slippery, wet little entrance caressing every inch so tightly. All you know for certain is that you won’t stop. As long as she can scream, she’ll take it. Every time she says she can’t come anymore, the next orgasm proves otherwise, which makes every hard thrust and little squeal of pleasure that much sweeter. 

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