The Masseuse (Part III)

If they both knew how much they’d be internally screaming out with need for an orgasm, they would never have denied themselves throughout November. It seems foolish now to have passed on the opportunity to masturbate when these skilled hands tormented them beyond reason.

The man’s entire body was already tingling with anticipation when he had first arrived; his mind was too focused on the pleasure to come to pay much attention to the second massage table in the room. He was asked to undress and lie on his back. The moment he stripped and laid down, the masseuse instantly returned and began caressing his upper body. His lower body remained covered by a towel. Even though the masseuse’s warm, oil-coated hands massaged only his shoulders and chest, his length instantly began to stir. The month of abstinence – two months total without a full orgasm – meant that all he could think of was the masseuse’s hands reaching under to stroke his cock. Just thinking of her stroking him, sucking him and riding him instantly sent a surge through to his manhood. He wanted her to whisper to him that she was going to fuck him, to impale herself on him, that knowing how desperate to come he was made her wet just thinking about, and how it aroused her to fuck men in this state.

Instead of fulfilling his fantasies right away, the masseuse simply continued to massage him wordlessly. Even the previous sexual audio, which filled the room with moans and cries of ecstasy, was absent.

Just as he began to wonder why things were so different and why the masseuse’s previous accomplice wasn’t present, another person entered the room, followed by the accomplice.

Continue reading The Masseuse (Part III)

The Masseuse (Her November)

(His November)

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.

Continue reading The Masseuse (Her November)

The Masseuse (His November)

The Masseuse and The Masseuse Part II

One month, that’s all it would be. He thought it would be difficult, he never expected it would be hellish.

It would have been so much easier, he thought, if his last orgasm was at least fulfilling, at least truly enjoyable. Instead, the masseuse had ended with a ruined orgasm, dashing hopes of a pleasurable climax before sending him away with the instruction to go a month of denial before returning. All he needed to do was get through November, and finally he assumed he’d get the orgasmic release he needed.

He longed for the massage table, to feel the masseuse and her apprentice’s warm, feminine hands caress his naked body. It was extremely difficult to abstain from touching himself at night when that was all he could picture. The way their hands coated him all over, how soft their palms felt against his throbbing member, how teasing their fingertips were each time it twitched.

Even work was difficult; as the days turned into weeks, it became harder to think about anything other than sex. Every titillating image or suggestive comment turned his mind to mush. It was as if, within the first week, he realised just how much free time he had, even at work, free time which led to more fantasies churning in his mind. While the urge to masturbate at night wasn’t as strong as expected, the urge to watch porn was greater than ever. He avoided it to ensure he wouldn’t be tempted. He wanted to last the entire month.

Continue reading The Masseuse (His November)

The November Study

Vicky had intended to see how long she could last without masturbating, a personal challenge to stave off her own desires, so when her university friends had proposed the idea, she was entirely on board: to go the month of November without allowing herself any sexual release. If only she knew quite what she was in for.

Being very sensitive to stimulation, Vicky had often found it difficult to hold back from coming. Even with several friends with benefits at her university who she hooked up with regularly, she still found the most comfort in her private moments of masturbation, which were numerous throughout the week. The prospect of holding off for a week or two seemed daunting yet rather erotic, having to endure an entire month sounded like nothing more than pure torture. She liked the idea of such a challenge.

Her friends had fit her with a special heart rate monitor on both wrists, sealed in order to ensure she couldn’t remove either without them knowing. The devices would be able to alert for any spikes in heart rate along with being able to map out hand movement below waist level, ensuring they’d know within the month if she masturbated to orgasm. Vicky however had no intention of trying to cheat, she wanted to last.

Continue reading The November Study

Under Mistletoe

Christmas eve, the flicker of a flame bathing her smooth skin, a mere ember compared to the inferno of need that raged within her. She swayed her hips a little, hoping to entice the man standing beside her at the foot of the bed, yet it was to no avail. Still his hands continued to massager her. Tantalizing her, his hands continued gliding along her back, caressing her raised ass cheeks, coursing along her sides, outlining the contours of her delicate frame. If only he’d touch her more instead of only teasing the sides of her breasts, instead of merely toying with the lips of her sex, so exposed and easy to penetrate.

Her pussy could get no wetter, so plump with arousal, doing all it could to invite those calculated fingers into that silky soft delicacy. Yet he was deliberate, there was still so much more time.

“Turn,” he whispered, gently, yet commanding.

She smiled as she turned, surely this would be the time?

As she turned over on the pillows, while he coated his fingers with more of the lubricant, she looked around for a clock. To her disappointment he had removed any indication of time, only his phone alarm would indicate when Christmas day officially arrived.

Now on her back, the mistletoe hung in full view above them – the cause for her predicament. He wanted her to see it once he filled her with disappointment again, denying her the fulfilment of giving her the orgasm she so desperately craved. With her hips raised by the pillows beneath, her womanhood was so fully presented to
him, yet still he merely traced his fingertip around her mound.

Her body trembled as his fingers slowly and deliberately circled the stiff peaks of her nipples, threatening to give her the relief of pinching them, before stopping and
tormenting her pussy once again. She finally broke down and began begging him once he toyed with her clitoris. The way he peeled back her clitoral hood to expose that tender morsel, before circling it cruelly, forced her to plead for the orgasm she had been torturously denied for so long.  Just a pinch, the thrust of a finger – anything.

“Not until we kiss under the mistletoe.”

Her mind raced back to their Christmas work do, just a couple of days ago. How they’d been with their colleagues, standing together under the mistletoe when he leaned forward to kiss her. Her words becoming her own torment, ‘no mistletoe kisses until Christmas,’ she had said with a cheeky laugh. She had stopped him then, but right now she’d do anything for that kiss.

Clawing at the bed in the agony of desire, she had no idea how long until he’d make her come. 10 minutes? An hour? He’d tease her relentlessly for as long as it took.

All she was certain of was that when the time came, she knew exactly where she wanted him to kiss her.

Content created by: PleasureTorture

Forbidden Romance

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. 

Continue reading Forbidden Romance

Two Participants

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.

Continue reading Two Participants

University of Erotic Artistry

Her first tour of the premises was one she would never forget. The first taste of the torments that awaited within the University of Erotic Artistry.

The classrooms within had been what she expected, with plenty of seminars underway exploring erotic poetry, live nude model painting classes and lectures examining the role of sexuality within the media. What she was met with at a room labelled  ‘discipline room’ however truly made her realise the extent to which sexuality embodied everything within the premises; both the curriculum itself as well as the punishments for those who disobey the rules or fall behind on coursework and assignments.

A lady was sat at a table, lightly adding the last details to a beautiful, intricate painting of female genitalia. Wondering how doing this painting was a punishment, the woman then turned to her and spoke.

“She has been denied for over a week.”

It was then that she realised that this woman holding the paintbrush was not the one being punished. Upon closer inspection, with a gasp of astonishment, it became clear that this was no painting at all. A girl was beneath the table, her genitals being painted with a flower design while she remained as still as possible, most certainly in complete sexual agony. Having been denied for a week, it was clear from the contractions of her pussy and the twitches of her clitoris that those slow, tantalising brushstrokes were teasingly and tormentingly pleasurable. The woman with the paintbrush seemed to take much delight in making the girl’s swollen clitoris ache with need for more, using her tongue and fingers to add to the cruel torture that the fine tipped paintbrush was mercilessly invoking.

Once it was over, the girl’s pussy was left alone to convulse with the need for more. It would be another few hours of teasing before the student would be allowed to climax. While she was shocked at the type of punishment she was witnessing, she couldn’t help but gaze at the beauty of the sight, unaware that it wouldn’t be long until the staff found a reason to put her through the very same scenario. The staff greatly enjoyed the many opportunities to perfect their techniques in the most erotic of body painting.

Content created by: PleasureTorture

Image source: Zazel