"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".
How tormenting it must be to feel that intensity right there where you cannot take any more, your thighs trying to protect that little sex, succeeding only in trapping it further against yourself.
Try closing your legs all you want, there is no stopping it.
“Now is the time to find out just why I wanted you to abstain from masturbating at all for 2 weeks – I wanted this gorgeous pussy to be so sensitive. I know how sensitive your clitoris usually is, so I can’t even imagine how it is going to feel once this torments that little cherry. These feathers are going to constantly spin against your clit for as long as I want, and I’m feeling cruel today…
Oh dear, it must be torture not being able to move away from these constantly whipping feathers. You can’t take it anymore? Don’t be silly, you’ve been telling me for the past 15 minutes that your clitoris is too tender, yet that hasn’t stopped you from coming so hard. No, I won’t be stopping quite so soon.”
If you do well, you get rewarded; if you do badly, you get punished.
This was the simple, unwavering stance of the cheerleading team, yet still Sarah pleaded with all her heart for their forgiveness without having to endure what she feared. It had only been a simple matter of a misstep, yet on the field, in front of such a large audience, before the final game of the season, it was noticeable; ‘noticeable’ was more than reason enough to suffer the wraith of the team.
The coach and her two top cheerleaders always took much pleasure in giving the punishments, Sarah knew this all too well. The slightest mistake from any member would earn such cruel attention, yet Sarah seemed to be most regularly targeted by the coach and her chosen disciplinarians.
Barely any time after the night was over and the game had finished, Sarah was summoned into a section of the changing room that the coach had set up just for these occasions. No time was wasted as they stripped her, telling her that she knew why she needed this, why the team needed this. The familiar feeling of leather cuffs were fasted to her wrists, to be held up by the coach, while her legs were kept spread by the spreader-bar. It had been the biggest game of the season, the final match, to make a mistake under such scrutiny was unforgivable; they were going to make her come until she could not stand.
Sarah was wise enough now to hold no protest, yet still the desire to close herself to such intense stimulation was overbearing – though no matter how much she tried, they kept her body spread open for their wicked delights. The vibrator made little work of her attempts to halt what she knew would come, the maw of tortured pleasure that would ensnare her and never let go. Even before the first orgasm, the sensitivity of her sex against the devastating pulsations was nearly unbearable; once the orgasm hit her with all its force, she was thrown into a descent of hellish pleasure. They held her tight, making sure to give not even a second of remorse. No matter how much she begged and told them she could not come anymore, they worked her back towards another. Sarah felt as if her own body was forging an alliance against her, cruelly making her endure each orgasm after the other, each more unendurable than the last. Throughout every shudder of her limbs, through the constant convulsing of her body, the coach and her fellow punishers gave no respite, keeping Sarah held open for the vibrator to continue until either she passed out or her body could no longer give them the orgasms which they so longed to always see.
Sarah knew they would not stop, no matter how much she screamed through every orgasm and the following over-stimulation which always cruelly led to another; they loved seeing her tortured with pleasure. This was a punishment she’d not forget any time soon.
All I want is to feel your legs twitch in the overriding uncertainty of whether you can really handle what I’m making you feel.
I want you to realise as many times as possible just how helpless those cuffs around your wrists and ankles render you. I want you to be picturing from behind the blindfold all of the things I’m going to do to that delicate, sensitive little place that my mouth is wreaking havoc upon, that my tongue is so tantalisingly exploring. I want your lips to soon tell me to stop, while your body writhes in the motion to ask for more. With your pussy so wet, quivering with desire and so invitingly aroused, I want to penetrate you and feel your limbs pull in vain to close around me in a bid to control the force that thrusts within you so intensely, fucking you with such ferocity and intent.
Exactly what I want, exactly what you crave… with you all to myself, I will devour you.
In those most sensual recesses of your mind, you can escape into your deepest fantasies. Whether you wish to experience them in reality, or simply bathe in them through your imagination, you can let your desires to be touched, fondled and explored so intimately consume you as you gasp sweet syllables of intense stimulation.
Imagine yourself strapped and spread apart, your body felt by many hands eager to caress you. Imagine the way your legs would buckle as those fingers relentlessly rubbed against your delicate sex, feeling the heat from all those bodies surrounding you, each delighting in your moans and shudders of ecstasy. Imagine how you would not want them to stop, no matter how intense it became. Give in to your longings; the more you fantasise, the more vivid they become.
The soft, stuttered sound of cloth tearing as his fingers rip open her last garment, indicating that the photo shoot was over and that his true intent was to begin. He had piqued her curiosity by mentioning the vibrator which he had himself created, yet when she asked him to show her, he had much more in mind.
He had told her to simply tell him to stop when she wanted him to, yet when his vibrator met her pussy, she gasped and swayed in shock at the power of it, speechless and engulfed in sudden arousal beyond expectation.
He held her tight, feeling such a delicate body in his arms, steadying her as if his life depended on it. Every shiver and surge of that feminine structure seemed to radiate through him, it seemed to be giving him strength. From what must have been mere seconds, he heard the music of her moans and utterances of joy fill the room; barely a minute had passed before she was shaking in her first orgasm. He relished in the ecstasy that his creation was eliciting from her. When her squeals of bliss turned to cries for it to stop, that it was too intense, he knew that it couldn’t end so soon.
He kept it pressed to her, holding her tight while those wonderful hips tried to twist free from his clutches. He was going to make sure she never forgot him, make sure that she always remembered the pleasure of this day, a pleasure that would never be rivalled. This vibrator in his clutches was going to make her come more than anybody else could, more than she herself would dare attempt. He knew that however much she screamed and begged, she would always dream about the sensations he had given her – she would always fantasise about the way he pushed her to the brinks of pleasure that she truly wanted but would never seek.
This wouldn’t be the last time she’d come back to him. The way he forced multiple orgasms from her with his vibrator was going to be what always kept her coming back for more, even if she wouldn’t admit it.
Even when it is just the slightest morsel of fabric protecting your delicate sex, once it is removed it feels like a new world of unbearably pleasurable stimulation. Once the vibrator buzzes against your now fully exposed, hyper-sensitive pussy, you feel a new dimension of defencelessness has been granted.
I’m going to keep playing with you until my fingers are the only thing you are thinking about. Every motion, every sound and every desire – all starts and ends with these fingers pressing to that soft, slender slope.
It’s not about thinking how that tight little pussy might feel wrapped around other parts of me, it’s not about me getting turned on by your sounds and movements, it is solely about what these penetrations are making you feel. Every little bit of contact, whether a soft stroke, a slap or a thrust within, it is all designed to keep you anticipating the next motion. I’ll explore your body, letting you explore your desires.