"When you are pulling against the restraints… when your back is arched and your hips are writhing… when your mouth is open in a silent scream of tortured rapture… you will know that my work has begun".
Once he awoke, he began to recollect meeting this woman as if piecing together a dream he had been yanked from. The way he had tried to entice her, drinks and dancing provided as a pathway to seduction. He was amazed at first that of all the people in the club, she only had eyes for him. She had indeed made the first move; the moment she kissed him, he was hers. It felt as if her lips were coated with the most addictive of drugs – he didn’t realise how close to the truth this was. That’s when he became confident, knowing that she wanted him. He whispered to her all of the things he was going to do, how he’d tie her down and tease her until she was begging him to fuck her.
“How many times are you going to make me come?” she had asked.
“Until you’re screaming for me to stop,” he replied.
That was the last thing he recalled, before waking up here.
Princess Sohia had quickly found that her fantasy and reality were not at all in sync. After the long and perilous journey from Helm to the Vaunt Empire, she was greeted not by the welcoming arms of her lover, but by guards and a swift imprisonment.
“You’ll be sorry if you don’t release me. Prince Tobias will not stand for this, he’ll punish you once he finds out I’m here.” Her protests and threats meant nothing to the guards.
She had expected to be led to the Prince once she had passed through the gates to the great empire of Vaunt. While always seen as a hostile territory to her own Kingdom, there had always been a certain level of respect for the majestic stone architecture which encompassed the mammoth realm she was now a captive of. At once she was separated from her personal guard and led towards the central castle. Led to a cell and imprisoned within the dungeons, she had hoped that the next person she would see would be Prince Tobias. Dangling from her shackled wrists held above her head, at the centre of the cell, Princess Sophia was approached by a group of women. With their plain white robes, she recognised these as the castle maidens. Accompanied by guards – who simply stood around the room and watched – the maidens stripped the captive and began bathing her. Sophia’s protestations did nothing to dissuade them. Neither the guards nor the maidens made any sound at all as sponges and hands soaped up and cleaned the completely naked girl.
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.
The soothing hum of an air conditioner drifts through the office, filling the void of the girl’s hesitation at the question.“No, not for over two years,” she finally responds.
The interviewer makes a note. “Any encounters within this period?”
“…Yeah,” follows the pause.
“If you care to say so, roughly, how recently was this?”
A rustling of paperwork fills the moment’s silence as the young woman averts her gaze.
“It was – um, about …uh, 4 months ago.”
“Lastly, have you been looking for any further partners recently?” the interviewer asks softly, making sure not to offend or embarrass the gentle looking girl before him.
Lifting her deep blue eyes to his, she firmly states, “No, just enjoying my independence,” before giving a warm smile.
The interviewer smiles back and turns off the sound recorder on his desk which separates them both in the spacious, finely decorated office room. Laying down his notes methodically, he addresses the girl.
“Welcome Andrea my dear, please come in. I am Dr Wand; we have been expecting you!”
The voice was warm, welcoming, enough to put Andrea at ease. The apprehension of turning up to such an isolated clinic was nearly enough to have prevented the usually carefree girl from taking advantage of such an opportunity. A two-week vacation to anywhere in the world just to try on a new prototype bra sounded almost too good to be true, but seeing the small group of researchers spread around the room, some obscured by computer screens, others looking up at her in the doorway, all dressed in white lab coats and looking busy, it all felt so much more legitimate.
‘Just remember…two weeks in the French Polynesia islands,’ she kept reminding herself, to make her go through with it.
A sharp intake of breath, the prickling shock of realization; Laura had regained consciousness as if torn from the comfort of sleep by the stark horror of reality. From the moment she’d regained her senses, her mind had been racing to make sense of the predicament she found herself in. Laura squinted, the light piercing her vision until she adjusted to the brightly lit room, a sight which both mystified and terrified her. The room was small and bare, surrounded with mirrors which seemed to shine upon the young girl who was bound in the middle of it. Arms hanging from the ceiling, her wrists cuffed together while her legs were spread apart, feet flat on the warm carpeted floor as her ankles had been cuffed and pulled wide apart, leaving little room for movement.
“Please, where am I?” Laura called to no response, struggling to raise her voice as her head swam, the effects of the drug still lingering. She looked at herself in disbelief, feeling so small as the room seemed to engulf her, every angle of her slender frame displayed. How many times she had fantasised about being in such a situation, almost admiring the view as she hung there, spread helplessly, pale blue bra and panties clinging to such a delicate, petite frame. ‘But not like this,’ she thought to herself, snapping back to the gravity of the situation, trying in vain to free herself.
There are many opinions regarding the use of ‘cum’ or ‘come’ when referencing an orgasm in the context of both a noun and a verb. Some may argue that the use of ‘come’ is the correct spelling, as well as being more visually appealing than the somewhat sleazy denotation which ‘cum’ portrays when referring to something as sensual as an orgasm. ‘Cum’, on the other hand, could be argued as being an instance of language and spelling simply adapting as they always have done, to fit with the trends and usage, the evolution of language.
In my writing, I tend to use both, though predominantly ‘come’ is the spelling of choice. Both certainly do have their place, often with the context being the predominant factor. Both can be equally viable when speech is concerned, with ‘cum’ able to clarify when there is any ambiguity, though this is often a rare occasion. More often, only the tone may dictate if ‘cum’ is used in speech, with snappier, more intense dialogue which strives for a harsher and more vulgar atmosphere dictating its usage.
‘Come’ on the other hand simply seems to be more visually appealing within text as well as flow better; it seems less jarring and fits more in line with the mood of eroticism, certainly a personal preference. ‘Cum’ seems more suitably reserved for orgasm as a noun, a word which, for example, helps differentiate the male orgasm itself from the product of the climax.
Overall, I try to keep a personal guideline on the usage of either ‘cum’ or ‘come’ simply so that the wrong use or interpretation does not take one out of the story, and this is always the most important point… to make sure that one can always be comfortably confined within their fantasy without feeling the need to internally debate what looks best grammatically.