The Need

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Anticipation once again permeated throughout the room as the audience took to their seats. The previous nights had been so intense, watching her being teased constantly without the hope of climax. Perhaps this would be the night that she’d be given respite from the agonizing need. It was such a tantalizing affair to watch such beautiful suffering, such desire, knowing that the performer had been selected due to her sensitivity. She was paid very handsomely. However, this was a way to see something beyond an act, to see raw passion so fully exposed, pure, unfiltered desire laid open beyond any mere performance. They were here to see sexuality at its finest.  

The slow, calculated bathing ritual was, of course, meant to arouse as much as cleanse. However, these last couple of nights had been pure hell even without their grazing fingertips; a glance towards her bare skin was enough to burn like a lick of flame. The silence was what made it all so much worse, particularly when she was on the stage. The intimacy of the small audience kept her aware of how every pair of eyes was constantly lingering on her body, letting her bask in the heat of the thoughts that must be racing through their minds. If the teasing touches from being bathed and prepared were like the ebb of the tide against her arousal, the man’s hands against her were like a tsunami crashing over her.

He had so much experience with teasing and tormenting his targets, honed to perfection and unleashed on this girl’s body all at once. The way his fingers trailed and played, caressed and penetrated. He always left the audience just on the brink as much as her, wondering whether she’d topple over, but he always knew when to stop. They had worked together for too long for him to make any mistakes, to not be able to read her little signs. They both wanted the same thing: for the audience to be able to taste the desire, to feel every pulse of longing. She wanted the men to feel that throb and imagine how it would feel within; he wanted the women to feel that convulsion and for them to moan in unison every time he entered her. However, as time went on, her attention veered from the audience and more onto herself as her mind joined her body in a desperate plea to climax. It was the same every day they performed, but as the week went on, it happened sooner and sooner. Though each time she whispered for him to please let her come, she was met with an audible ‘no’, loud enough for the audience to know what she’d asked and to let them revel in her sweet despair.

When his rock-hard cock was inside her, the tension was palpable. Every thrust seemed as if it would be the one to throw them over the edge; every wet slap of penetration was expected to be joined by her screams of release, yet still, they both held on. He had also spent just as long as her without orgasm, though he loved it, the way it made him feel so stiff and full and how much more it added to the show. It was, after all, all about the show; their pleasure was the centre stage. That was why, when she gasped that she was about to come and the audience held their breath in anticipation, he withdrew and simply motioned ‘no’. Leaving her on edge as much as the audience, perhaps tomorrow he’ll be at the point where his will would be broken, where the desire to show off the art of lust wouldn’t outweigh his desperate need to come. She, however, was already beyond that point. Perhaps tomorrow the artistic, sensual splendour of orgasm will be on display, but not tonight.

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The Gift

You do as you were told in the dream. On Christmas Eve, you had dreamt of him, the absolute picture of your fantasies as if he were there with you in the flesh. After the most wonderful of dreams, filled with passion and eroticism, you woke up, wishing it were real. However, you recalled his one request as if it were whispered in your ear directly.

‘On Christmas, place your hands above your head and close your eyes. I’ll stay with you until you open your eyes.’

When you also opened up a gift beneath your Christmas tree – one you didn’t recognise – and saw that it contained nothing but a note stating, ‘Remember, keep your eyes closed,’ you knew it must be real. It couldn’t have been merely a dream.

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Bruc3 – Release

“Pl- Oh fuck. Oh Go- Mmmmmnnnn I-I- Fuuuuuck. PLEASE! Please, please have mercy. Have mer- ahnnnn God. I can’t… take… it. It’s December… it’s December… Aaaannn…. Please. I’m dying to come… Mnnnn fu-fu-fu…. FUCK! LET ME COME!!!”

November had already long passed, yet still, she hadn’t felt the welcome relief of orgasm at the hands of her metallic companion, Bruc3. The first few days of December were a write-off because she had to let him charge his batteries. Even though she masturbated vigorously during this downtime for the machine, she wasn’t able to bring herself to orgasm without the intense stimulation that she’d become accustomed to. All these first days of December did was frustrate her even more.

For the following days, once Bruc3 was charged and active, the machine simply continued where it left off, teasing her daily yet not letting her climax.

“All readings indicate that you are at the highest point of arousal when you know that you are not going to be allowed to climax. I will ensure that you are granted your orgasm when the time is right. You are most receptive to having me in control, aren’t you?”

While she could never deny that it was maddeningly erotic to have this machine now in charge of her pleasure, she felt like she’d go mad if she was forced to endure another month of being teased without being allowed to come.

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Bruc3

“No more… NO MORE!!!  FUUUUCK. Please. M-Mercy. Please. PLEASE! I… mmmnnn… can’t take it… nnngggaaa… anymore. I’m… I’m… Oh God. OH GOD… Sooo… close… ffff- aaahhhh. I’M BEGGING YOU… PLEEEASE!”

Before witnessing the hell she is enduring, we must step back to see how it all started.

The Bipedal Responsive User-Centered Computer Model 3, known as Bruc3 for short. It was the greatest machine ever built, able to learn and respond to its user along with updating itself with information gathered from the internet constantly; a self-developing work of perfection on two metal legs.

She had bought one for the sole purpose of pleasuring herself, having struggled to ever climax through masturbation and finding that only powerful vibrators could get the job done, and even then, only rarely. The thought of a machine that could learn all about her not only as a fun companion after work but as a sex aid was a wonderful prospect. Many had sung its praises as being the ultimate in sex tech, something it had been intended for, though not as widely publicised.

Her first session with Bruc3 was incredible. Although he looked intimidating – a hulking colossus of wires and metal standing at 7 feet with a large glass done where a face would be, housing cameras and sensors – he was surprisingly gentle. He lifted her up by the waist, lifting her entirely off the ground. Straps suddenly wrapped around her thighs, pulling her hips onto his unexpectedly warm surface. She kept her hands resting on his enormous shoulders while something resembling a tongue teased along her pussy. The more she became aroused, the more it vibrated until it was joined by more tongue-like devices, all vibrating up and down her slit and over her clitoris. She’d never felt anything like it.

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Seduction School

Standing in front of the classroom, she took a moment to bask in the sea of eager faces and excited chatter. Her sharp, pointed teeth shone back at some of the students who were watching her in anticipation to begin.

Just like everyone in the classroom, she was entirely naked. Amongst her kind, she did not need to try and blend in or put on an act. She could sense the arousal from the male in particular to her right. She wondered if the rest of the class had picked up on his arousal, other than merely his throbbing erection that faced the classroom. The woman was also turned on, though her arousal was not as strong to the scent as the male, as is always the case with females. They tend to have a much easier time hiding their arousal, not just externally. The teacher could, however, sense that the female was looking at her shapely rear, though she was most likely just as transfixed by the long black tail that whipped left and right as much as she was checking out her ass.

“Silence.”

Not a sound could be heard other than the deep breathing from the male and female who lay naked on a table at the front of the class. A sizzle of electric excitement rang through the room. Her dark-red wings spread out fully as she opened her arms and addressed the class again.

“Welcome. It is a pleasure to have so many of you joining us today. I promised I’d have live subjects for us to study. I have cast a spell to ensure they cannot make any noise yet. We’ve all heard the relentless pleas these humans bellow out when they are in our company. It grows tiresome. Maybe later, I’ll release them from the spell so that we can hear some of the sweeter sounds they make.”

The pair of humans, lying on the table completely naked and propped up by pillows behind their backs, could only look back at the sea of faces gazing at them, razor-sharp teeth gleaming in grins at their naked bodies.

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Just A Glitch

Just a glitch.

Just a glitch, she thought to herself, hoping. The buzzing once again slowly built up after that abrupt halt. The internet feed continued, so there didn’t seem to be any power outage; she thought that it must have been a malfunction of the Sybian vibrator’s program. It turned her on more than anything to know so many people were watching her in this state of pleasure, ready to see her orgasm over and over again. She had always been so sensitive, so easy to bring to orgasm. Little did she know that the purpose of the set was quite the opposite. 

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You have no idea how long I’m going to force you to orgasm or how hard I’m going to press the vibrator to your already oversensitive clitoris. All you know is that the longer I keep you on the edge like this, the more intense it is going to be. That wonderfully erotic mixture of apprehension and anticipation for how it’s going to finally feel, nothing is more of a turn-on. 

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Your favourite little game. You are always pushing one another to the breaking point while trying your best to control it, to push those feelings down just a little deeper than her. You try so hard not to climax before her, but hearing those moans and feeling the gyrations and little trembles makes it much more intense. 

Does knowing exactly how she is feeling make it easier? Or harder? 

That burning pleasure rising constantly within you, the wetness around your fingers a signal of the orgasm you want to release; you need it to overcome her. Perhaps this time, when your thighs clench, and your moans turn to gasps, that’s when she’ll give in and come. If not, can you last another moment rocking on the edge?

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She wanted to experience the most intense desire possible, to be utterly tortured with pleasure; she was going to get it. Restrained entirely to lock her into this prison of ecstasy, she could only shudder and writhe in response to the constant vibration radiating throughout her sex. The tape over her eyes kept her focused solely on the sounds of the earphones, the continuous sounds of pleasure, which further added to the torment. All she could do was picture the source of such sounds; women masturbating to long desired orgasms, men thrusting themselves deep into those hot wet little pussies until the soft slapping sounds of hard penetration unleashed their longings. 

The tape over her mouth, however, made the ordeal much crueller. While she could not plead or beg, even her moans were to be locked away. Any time she moaned or made any sound of pleasure, the vibrator was taken away just enough for the welling orgasm to recede before being placed back on her frustrated pussy. Being completely unaware of her surroundings and shielded from the external sounds due to the tape and the earphones, keeping herself in check was even harder, causing the occasional whimper of pleasure to spill forth. This, of course, meant her orgasm was itself prevented from spilling forth. Being so sensitive to the intensity of the vibrator, made even more fierce by the unspeakably erotic situation with which she was helplessly captive, the cycle seemed to never end. Finally, she had experienced the pleasure she had so yearned for, to be brought to the pinnacle of what she could handle, the utmost frustration of edging and denial. Though now she could not speak out or scream that it was too much, that she’d reached her limit, she was forced to endure it for so much longer than she ever thought possible.

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