I stand here before you, watching you sway in the rhythm of your sexual longing. My words seem to still be echoing in your mind, telling you just how to masturbate yourself, making sure not to push you over the edge. I love thinking about how it must feel, to realise that if simply masturbating to the brink and stopping could feel so intense, intense enough to start begging me for mercy, just how will it feel for you once I take over. I’ve seen you at your most intimate, I know just how far I can push you.
“Again,” I command as you beg once more, taken to the limit of what your own touch can provide. Your waist bounces rapidly to the strum of your fingers, making my cock tense for a moment as I imagine what it would be like to feel you right now. To feel how your pussy must be convulsing after being nearly granted the climax that has been tantalising it for some time now. It takes all my willpower to not leap towards your tensing body, enticed by the little trail of your pussy juice which drips from your tender apex. Watching your arousal build to a visible trail of pleasure has kept me yearning to do so much more to you, but patience always yields the sweetest results.
Telling me that you are on the edge once again, I decide that now is the time. Flinging myself from the chair, I clutch your wrist and pull it away. I bask in the enjoyment for a moment, the power it brings to have complete control of your pleasure, watching your eyes tell the internal struggle of wanting to have something so bad and wanting to give it just as badly. After a few seconds I pull your wrist up, strapping it in place with the cuffs at the head of the bed. Wordlessly I do the same to your other wrist and ankles, restraining you fully while leaving you to stew in the thoughts of what I’ll be making you feel very soon. Once you are completely helpless, I finally whisper to you.
“Think to yourself, with how bad you want it now, just imagine how you’re going to feel once I’m done with you, with my mouth wrapped around that tenderness.”
I decide not to put a blindfold on, preferring to let you watch me. Slowly my fingers tease around your nipples while my lips peck down your neck, down your cleavage. With your nipples already so stiff, I let my fingertips brush over the tips of them occasionally, wanting you to arch for more before I truly go to work on you. Once my lips reach that most erotic of destinations, I begin to kiss and lick along the sides of your mound, tantalizing those soft folds.
Feeling your body arch, those gorgeous breasts heaving to your glee, I decide to give you just a little of what is to come. Squeezing your nipples between thumb and finger, I delight in the little squeak of joy that escapes you. It turns me on so much that I can’t help but want to hear it again and again, so I trail my tongue around that very centre of your sexuality. I savour the rocking of your hips, letting me know that you are already so overcome by the sensations, having brought yourself to the brink for so long. Repeatedly I circle my tongue, occasionally lapping just over the top of it, delighting in the instant shudder and gasp it produces. As much as I want so much to press my mouth against you and make you scream out, I know that you won’t feel truly satisfied unless I take you beyond what you thought you’d experience. For as long as I can, I will keep you in that state of pure need.
My chin feels so slick with your essence, a little reminder of just how long you’ve been experiencing this arousal. With the slowest of motions, I trace my tongue down and along your entrance, slipping it a little inside you before curling it back up. Once I’m back at that sensitive clitoris of yours, I know that the time is just right. With a final hard pinch and twist of your nipples, I slide one hand downwards, pushing my fingers back against your mound. I reveal your sensitivity even more, peeling back that clitoral hood. Completely at my mercy.
I lock my lips around your clitoris and instantly relish your little scream and the bucking of your hips. Nothing is more erotic than the feeling of your thighs wrapping tighter around my head, as if your body is uncertain about what it should be feeling. I suck your clitoris with a cruel longing, a desire for you to be in an almost painful pleasure. There is nothing like being in such control when your most sensitive little spot is at the whim of my mouth, my lips, and my tongue; how just the smallest part of you can render your entire body at my complete mercy.
I relinquish my hold just as you tell me you are close, not wanting to let you have release just yet. There is a temptation to utter some erotic thought to you, to paint another picture of what could be happening to you, how you could be feeling multiple hands caressing every inch of your body while I’m devouring your sex. Though I decide to leave you to your own thoughts, knowing that your own mind will work your body up just as intently, always eager to paint itself into a deeper hunger.
After listening to a few of your deep breaths, I sink my lips back against your mound. Noticing how your hips thrust up and down at a faster rate once you get closer, I barely need you to tell me that you are about to come, though I still wait for that moment anyhow. The way your thighs spread wider the moment I stop, inviting me to give you so much more, makes me want to strip and fuck you right that second. Of course, the delight will be in making you climax from my mouth alone, especially with you knowing that I won’t stop even once you come.
I keep repeating the cycle a few more times, with each time you get close bringing another surge of pleasure and power to me, like a rush of joy in how completely you belong to my actions right at those moments. Your body is my instrument.
Once your shivers of pleasure have escalated, once your moans and pleas for mercy truly seem to have reached their most prominent, once I know that making you climax right now will be the one you aren’t entirely expecting, I’ll keep focusing all my attention on your clitoris once you tell me again that you are there.
Your scream of pleasure, your trembling thighs, your thrusting hips, none of these take my attention. All of my attention remains firmly locked on your swollen clitoris which suddenly feels just that bit stiffer against my tongue. It’s that determined focus on that little space, on the pleasure that it brings me to think of just how it must feel, that keeps me from ever giving in to your pleas for it to stop. I’m not feasting on your pussy, I’m feasting on your orgasms, and that’s going to keep me going for as long as you can feel it.
You continuously tense your lower body, wanting so desperately to give in, to take back control of your own pleasure and come, though you remain poised, trapped in your own ecstasy. You look down for a moment and see him before you, watching as you rock your hips up and down. The hunger in his eyes makes you wish he could feel the tightness that wraps around your fingers the moment you slide them in, to make him feel how it would be to thrust himself inside, choosing that pleasure over the torment of your denial.
“Please,” you ask as much with your eyes as your voice, but he simply commands you to continue, the wetness trailing down your ass becoming a constant reminder of just how badly you need that release. As you continue to masturbate, you picture him fucking you, the feeling of his weight pressing down upon you, feeling every ounce of his masculinity radiating against your body while his manhood commands from within you.
“I’m close,” you gasp into the air, knowing that he won’t let you get off that easily, though still holding out hope that just this moment you’ll get what you crave. For a second, you hear no objection, though suddenly, just as you linger on that precipice, his hand snatches yours away. You say nothing as you gaze into his eyes, almost able to see the glare of triumph in reducing you to such desperation; never before have you wanted to orgasm this badly, which makes your womanhood pulse a little more, knowing what else is to come. Part of you wants so desperately to pull your hand away and take yourself over the edge, to defy him and see just what punishment would await. While the other half feels overcome with excitement at what you are going to feel, wanting to submit to this new level of arousal.
As he suddenly starts to restrain you at last, your mind becomes enraptured with thoughts of what will happen, thoughts of having your pussy feasted on relentlessly, thoughts of being forced to orgasm until you are crying in pleasure, having him looming over you and not allowing you to give in. The moment he whispers to you, the only word that needs be said, ‘…mouth…’, lingers in your thoughts. That picture of his lips pressing to your sex, devouring you endlessly until you are a screaming wreck, makes you realise that if the restraints weren’t on you wouldn’t be able to help yourself.
His fingers circle around your chest, surprising you that his lips instantly begin a slow descent down your body. You expected him to blindfold you, though the thought of watching him eat you out is just as intoxicating. The pulsating longing for stimulation coursing through your nipples, as if directly connected to your loins, is prolonged by the constant motion of those delicate fingers passing around and occasionally over them. You want desperately for him to just pinch them hard, yet know better than to give in and ask for it. The trail of his kisses down your body makes you naturally rock your hips towards him. Though the path of those lips, teasing around your pussy, makes you almost wish you hadn’t shown him just how badly you want it. The little flickers of his tongue to the sides of your pussy lips almost tickles, not enough to make you laugh, just enough to frustrate you further.
Finally you arch your back, trying to get a little mercy on your aching nipples. At last, that firm pinch sends the spark of electricity through you that you needed; a moment’s respite. Once his tongue begins circling around your clitoris however, all focus is pulled to just that one tiny place. Nothing else matter right now. It’s as if all the blood in your body has rushed to that tender little bud, every nerve ending reaching out, straining for more. A little less self-restraint and you’d be screaming out for him to just do what he really wants to do, but you know that the orgasm it brings will be worth every second. All that masturbation has gotten you so sensitive, just the slight slips of his tongue over your clitoris seem to send a flame coursing through your entire body. For a second you try and keep your hips still, just to see if you can control the motion, yet it does no good as instantly the sensations of longing take hold and cause your hips to rock up and down, as if to entice him to unlock the feminine delights he must be yearning to reveal.
You almost freeze once his tongue darts within the folds of your sex. For a second you wonder how you taste, though the thought is stolen by a sigh of pleasure as his tongue flicks against your clitoris just at the moment he tweaks your nipples fiercely, almost a little too hard, as if purposely trying to clear your head of all thought. The moment however that his fingers slide down to peel back your clitoral hood, you look down, knowing just what is to come, the anticipation of what you will feel almost torturous in itself. Just before his lips lower around it, you fling your head back and tense your entire body in preparation.
You wouldn’t have been able to stop yourself from crying out even if you had tried. As if ripped from your throat, the scream pierces the room. You pull at the restraints and try to close your legs, not in pain, but in the pure intensity of the stimulation that your completely exposed clitoris is being subjected to. It feels like it is about to become detached from your body, trapped within those lips and sucked so intently.
Just as you are about to come, you alert him, “I’m going to…,” before it stops abruptly.
For a moment you try to catch your breath, wanting the feeling at the base of your clitoris to never fade, while wondering for a second whether he’d be able to suck you this hard and torment you this cruelly if he knew just how it felt right there.
You gasp as his mouth presses once again to your sex, his tongue darting against it. You look down and want to come from seeing the sight alone, his face pressed tightly against your inner thighs, the very centre of your sexuality being so thoroughly explored. The eroticism of having your most delicate, sensitive place being at the mercy of another person’s mouth drives you instantly to the edge. You think not to mention it, but you decide against not telling; as expected, the moment you mention it, he stops.
It feels like no time at all before he starts again, that constant yet never fading heat pierces every morsel of your pussy, a hot wetness that once risen, seems to never sink back beneath the surface. Repeatedly he edges you, giving that hope of orgasm and then yanking it away. You hope your moans and motions, your squeals and shudders, would entice him to give mercy, though they seem to merely add to his fulfillment in keeping you held so close yet so far away.
Again that ache cycles through to the tip of your clitoris, like a fountain being held from gushing, though this time once you cry out, he does not stop.
“I’m going to come,” you expel, though the seconds between telling him and coming seem to be a void, as if your mind cannot comprehend this sudden change of routine torment. Your every muscle tenses before you realise what has happened. The orgasm hits you hard, suffocating and relentless. No matter how much you strain against the cuffs or how hard your shaking legs try to close shut, you are forced to endure the ride and see every moment of this orgasm through. It’s as if every self-produced orgasm is a journey that you have halted, with this time being a passenger, driven past the point where you’d always stop, experiencing the lengths you’d not seen before. You’d have long stopped by now, but still it continues. His tongue lapping away and his lips clamped around you as if nothing had changed, as if your body wasn’t an inferno.
Seconds ago, you wanted to feel this more than anything else. Right now, you’d give anything to him to stop it. You thought the same last time you experienced this, and you are going to think the same thing again, and again, and again.
Content created by: PleasureTorture