"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".
Another person’s fingertips trailing over her body is all she craved. She’d happily give up a month of masturbation in order to feel the sensations she had enjoyed at the massage parlour. The prospect of submitting to the stimulation in that way, with every touch and every caress focused solely on her, was too enticing to pass up.
The ruined orgasm played on her mind throughout November. For the first couple of weeks, she focused on the frustration, how her pussy convulsed in longing for so much more and how the sense of emptiness that the ruined orgasm brought remained with her. She wanted those cruel fingertips back where they were, teasing her clitoris and penetrating her intensely, squeezing around them as if it were her body pleading for them not to stop fucking her.
For the last couple of weeks in November, she instead focused on the joy that even the ruined orgasm brought. The sensation of pleasure lifted to the surface, and the jolts of ecstasy that slipped through the cracks of frustration.
Wherever they had come from, those fetching panties that she had discovered in her drawer were going to inflict a night of passion upon her that she would never forget.
The silky softness of that tight little piece of fabric made her hunger for the touches against her sensuous mound; never in her most erotic dreams could she imagine that those panties would embody something which hungered for her just as much.
From the moment she put them on, she longed to caress her sex, the cool silk seemed to enhance every sensation, after mere seconds it seemed as if every nerve ending in her body had focused its attention to just that one space between her legs. The deep longing grew and grew until simply the slippery stroke of a fingertip was not nearly enough. She had felt the joy of being teased plenty of times before, yet this longing was unlike anything else, as if every passing second added an hour’s worth of tantalisation.
She removed the lingerie hastily, unaware that its spell had long been cast upon her body the moment they were worn, the moment they encased her sensitive womanhood.
Completely naked and exposed, she still felt the familiar sensation of the cool, soft silkiness clinging to her sex, though all her attention was on the uncontrollable longing which burned between her legs. Her fingers magnetised towards it, yet instead of the fulfilling comfort of masturbation, they were stopped. As if they were being held back, she could not push her hands any further down. No matter how much she tried to slide her fingers down to quench the fire raging within her sex, she was left held so cruelly close. While the unendurable longing did not seem to die down, her pussy seemed to be throbbing with more need by each second.
The tingling seemed to increase to a burning need, until moments later it was like she were trapped in the vice of an impending orgasm that wouldn’t come; still her pussy was inexplicably out of reach. Suddenly her arms were pulled back and came to rest above her head, pinned in place as if they were being held tightly. Just as fast, her pussy was embraced by sensations she could not explain or comprehend. Even while her pussy was bare, she could feel the familiar sensation of the silky material embracing her. This sensation seemed to combine with a stimulation of being touched by the softest of fingertips, of being licked by the most precise tongue, of being nibbled by the most eager mouth.
She thought her engorged mound would explode with need as repeatedly she was brought so close to orgasm and held there, before it backed off just enough to leave her hips thrusting for more. She wanted to touch herself, to touch anywhere, just to feel the soft curves of her heat stricken body; still she remained held in place, tormented to a state of craving that she had never thought possible. The constant writhing of her hips did nothing to increase the formless yet ever present and unyielding manipulations to her soft, delicate mound.
Finally, when she thought her consciousness could not stand any more of that tantalising torture, it happened. Her pussy felt like it had suddenly been devoured with pure stimulation, as if her entire sex were being sucked, every tiny detail and sensitivity of that swollen mound seemed to be being latched onto by the air itself. After so much time spent in the hell of denial, the sudden avalanche of suction was a heaven of orgasmic bliss. Her orgasm seemed to never end – she didn’t want it to, all she cared about was the unparalleled pleasure that confined her to the bed. Wave after wave of orgasm was sucked from her, the mixture of such long denial and the longing brought about by the lingerie kept fuelling the orgasmic fire. As if reading her mind, the sucking stopped, ceasing just as the almost painfully intense orgasms started to cross the line of being unbearable.
Once she was able to move her arms, she knew it was over. All was still and quiet in the room. Finally able to catch her breath, as if her lungs were also finally her own now, she simply lay there motionless, recovering from the fiercest orgasms she had ever experienced.
As she lay there, she thought to herself that she may wait at least another week before putting those back on.
It’s all about the anticipation – knowing why you are there, knowing what is to come. What adds to the intensity is realising that it is all merely the beginning. The agonising need, the craving as every inch of you burns for more… it is simply to whet the appetite. Every time it stops, each moment that is taken away, soon you’ll be screaming out for those brief seconds of respite.
At the mercy of their patient hands, she must not say a single word. She had passed all of the previous tests and trials, though this final one was always going to test her resolve the most in a completely different way.
There is always the possibility of being apprehended, therefore as a female warrior, they had to make sure she was completely prepared for whatever she might encounter in future. While she could defend herself in countless ways, there was always the fact that as a woman, her enemies may choose to focus their attentions on her femininity, to take advantage of the devastating responsiveness of her sexuality. To make sure that she was prepared for this, the final test called for her to prove her ability not to give in to the demands of her body, to control her responses.
She hadn’t been told how long the ordeal would last; it seemed as if their cruelly precise fingertips and palms became slower as time progressed, yet all she can do is try her hardest to stifle her agonising desire to give in, to cry out for more.
Just another couple of hours and then the new year. Just another couple of hours… and then you’ll get what you need.
What started as a simple challenge had become a battle of wills. Hearing the moans, the desperate cries for release, made it so much harder to hold on. The biggest rule was that when somebody called out that they were about to come, the other person must stop and let them rest, no matter how tempting it was to make them go over the edge. They all agreed that nobody could climax until midnight, until it was the new year. Anybody who failed to hold back would spend all of January in a state of denial.
You close your eyes for a moment, as if to shut away the onslaught of imagery that tempts you, yet all it does is make you focus on the sensations driving you closer. You open them again and simply look around, trying to take your mind off of the mouth that is working you to the brink. Watching a couple suck each other does not help, seeing the woman on top wrap her lips around that pulsating length while her lover does all he can to frustrate her further. With her legs straddling his head, he grasps her ass while continuing to suck her clitoris, as if pulling her closer and letting her know that she isn’t going anywhere else until one of them gives. It won’t be long until he begins to pump his hips up and down, then she’ll know that she has him right where she wants.
You gaze around the room as you feel your own impending orgasm wreak havoc, wanting so desperately to just give in. The sounds of sex continues to pour fuel on the flames; the wet slapping sounds of skin meeting skin, the aching moans of desire echoing throughout. Women bounce up and down on the laps of their partners, feeling every inch twitching within at the moment they are told to stop. Those mischievous grins signal that they want nothing more than to just jerk their waist up and down once more, to force that stiff length to convulse in pleasure and see their man cry out in orgasmic joy. Yet still midnight is some time away, more time to keep those stiff cocks swollen and in need for more.
You want to come so badly, for that mouth to just bring you over the pinnacle, yet you hold out… soon you’ll get what you need. Your attention is pulled to a woman screaming out as her pussy is devoured, letting everyone know that she can’t take it, that she just needs to come. The woman between her legs looks up and tells her no, that it isn’t time yet. A shiver of arousal runs through your spine at hearing those words, then seeing the woman lean her head down and begin again. The way she is lapping away at the woman’s dripping pussy makes it clear that she is taking much delight in evoking such moans and squeals of frustration.
Various couples look into one another’s eyes, as if feeding off of their arousal and trying to will the other to give in, to succumb to their desires. It’s so erotic, to know what they are all feeling, to understand that deep, bubbling climax is ready to spill over and gush forth, to know that it is their own body that is doing this to them.
You feel your orgasm taking hold, the fight between wanting to hold back and recover, and wanting the mouth to never stop tormenting you. Everything within yearns to just let go as the countdown begins. Ten seconds is all it will take… yet the tightening in your core, those little tremors within, telling you that you may not last. The fireworks are about to go off. Ten… nine… eight… so close….
He told her that he would bring her to the pinnacle of orgasm for at least an hour. The sensation was unlike anything; she simply giggled at first, unsure how to react to such sensations. After a while, she began to realise that this burning need would not simply fade, but by that time it was too late to stop…
As the second hour of denial passed, her giggles became desperate cries for release… cries for an orgasm that would not come. If only she knew how it felt to be trapped in this torment for so long before she agreed to it.
The feeling of the silk against your wrists sends a surge of warmth along every inch of your skin; the creamy, weightless softness letting you know that nothing you feel after this moment will be in your own hands. The eroticism of such a thought drifts directly between your thighs – you tremble in anticipation.
You are told not to speak, told simply to lose yourself in the experience. The blindfold further locks you inside yourself, keeping you fantasising about the sensations, amplifying every light touch on your skin. The delicate contact across your cleavage and across your nipples makes your skin tingle.