Your need is a reflection of my own.

The need to reach the pinnacle again and again. The absolute longing for a pleasure that is too much to bear. A desire to be helpless against that all-consuming ecstasy that burns so deeply.

Throughout every convulsion and twitch, through every shiver and shudder, you long for the type of orgasmic release that I could only dream of. Pleasure beyond my comprehension.

It burns too hot to clutch for too long. Yet to be shackled against it, to force oneself to press to it indefinitely. That is a pleasure I could not withstand. Yet, I will make sure that you withstand it… throughout every screaming, tortuous second.

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Uncertainty

It’s the uncertainty that gets you the most. Wondering whether this time, maybe this time, you’ll get to feel that orgasm. Just like how your own fingertips – your own control of the toy – still leave you unsure of just when; will you give yourself that mercy and let the orgasm overtake you, or will you keep going until your body gives out first, unable to hold it back?

The first time, just the slow and steady rise while your legs spread apart, exposing you. Perhaps your legs are pushed apart fiercely, letting you know just who is in charge, yet you keep them held like that, inviting the exploration. Maybe it’ll happen though, that little thought crossing your mind that an orgasm now would be the biggest shock. The surprise and urgency making it all the more intense. But no, not yet, of course. It pulls away. The first time is playful, teasing in the lightest sense of the word. After all, you aren’t begging yet. So much more time to feast on your pleasure.

The second time, that flutter of desire turns to a sting of need. Good girl, keep it going; we are just beginning. The way your hips just rock into the movement, how your nipples feel so stiff and tender against any glancing touch, your pussy so invitingly wet, your body just giving every signal that it needs it… but not yet.

The third time, that sting of need starts to swell to an ache. The little murmurs turned to moans. You know how those sounds turn me on, and you start to hope they make me show mercy. Deep down, though, you know they won’t; the more you moan, the more I want. The harder it gets, the closer you feel to coming, the more you know that you won’t climax this time. This time, when it stops, you start to ask for it; that’s when you know we’ve truly begun.

The fourth time, that ache of need turns to a burn, that sensation that fills you throughout. It won’t be quenched until you get it, and that’s when you start to plead for it.

Those fingers, those toys, are always able to tantalize you to the very pinnacle, working you like the finest instrument and playing the perfect melody. Right on the edge, if only something could press just inside, or just against your swollen clitoris merely for a moment more. But no, it stops once again, leaving you to beg. Such an erotic thing, begging someone to let you orgasm. Begging to be granted the wonderful release of pent-up pleasure that you need oh so much.

The fifth time, that burning torment turns into an inferno, a raging fire that consumes you. The feeling takes over everything. No longer fantasizing about the situation or scenarios that would turn you on even more – all your focus is between your legs and the joy which that part of you would feel if given the chance. Finally, you feel that little bit of penetration that you crave. This time you come.

Good girl.

Harder than you imagined, the surprise making you gasp as the orgasm hits so intensely. Then, just as you want more, it slows down, not letting you ride it out for as long as you hoped.

It’s the penetration that captivates you, the mixture of sensations that melt together. Your clitoris is on fire, but not one that you want to put out yet, keeping it going, stoking it further. The next time it stops, forced to edge again, it’s worse. Now that you’ve felt that heaven between your thighs, you have to have so much more. But still, you are made to reside on the brink again and again until you can no longer take it. Once it’s absolutely too much, then you’ll feel what you need most, and it won’t stop… but not a moment before.

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Uncertainty (5/5)

The fifth time, that burning torment turns into an inferno, a raging fire that consumes you. The feeling takes over everything. No longer fantasizing about the situation or scenarios that would turn you on even more – all your focus is between your legs and the joy which that part of you would feel if given the chance. Finally, you feel that little bit of penetration that you crave. This time you come.

Good girl.

Harder than you imagined, the surprise making you gasp as the orgasm hits so intensely. Then, just as you want more, it slows down, not letting you ride it out for as long as you hoped.

It’s the penetration that captivates you, the mixture of sensations that melt together. Your clitoris is on fire, but not one that you want to put out yet, keeping it going, stoking it further. The next time it stops, forced to edge again, it’s worse. Now that you’ve felt that heaven between your thighs, you have to have so much more. But still, you are made to reside on the brink again and again until you can no longer take it. Once it’s absolutely too much, then you’ll feel what you need most, and it won’t stop… but not a moment before.

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Uncertainty (4/5)

The fourth time, that ache of need turns to a burn, that sensation that fills you throughout. It won’t be quenched until you get it, and that’s when you start to plead for it.

Those fingers, those toys, are always able to tantalize you to the very pinnacle, working you like the finest instrument and playing the perfect melody. Right on the edge, if only something could press just inside, or just against your swollen clitoris merely for a moment more. But no, it stops once again, leaving you to beg. Such an erotic thing, begging someone to let you orgasm. Begging to be granted the wonderful release of pent-up pleasure that you need oh so much.

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Uncertainty (1/5)

It’s the uncertainty that gets you the most. Wondering whether this time, maybe this time, you’ll get to feel that orgasm. Just like how your own fingertips – your own control of the toy – still leave you unsure of just when; will you give yourself that mercy and let the orgasm overtake you, or will you keep going until your body gives out first, unable to hold it back?

The first time, just the slow and steady rise while your legs spread apart, exposing you. Perhaps your legs are pushed apart fiercely, letting you know just who is in charge, yet you keep them held like that, inviting the exploration. Maybe it’ll happen though, that little thought crossing your mind that an orgasm now would be the biggest shock. The surprise and urgency making it all the more intense. But no, not yet, of course. It pulls away. The first time is playful, teasing in the lightest sense of the word. After all, you aren’t begging yet. So much more time to feast on your pleasure…

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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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Futile.

Knowing the barrier of the fabric won’t let those fingers press right there.

Knowing those slender digits won’t apply enough pressure on your achingly in-need clit, or sink between your moist, swollen pussy lips.

Certain that you will not receive the friction you need or the intimate penetration that every inch of your body screams out for.

Certain that the pattern will continue, that those cruel, teasing fingertips will torment the gorgeously smooth mound of your femininity continuously.

Yet still, you thrust your hips up, rock your waist back and forth, as if it will make any difference. As if bucking and writhing will provide any relief or draw any mercy.

Utterly futile.

Content created by: PleasureTorture

Consider it revenge. How your body, your lingerie, ignites the imagination, so too does this brush. I know you want that firm touch, that deep penetration. Yet, as much as you may hope for fingertips to press against or a mouth to embrace tightly or a cock to thrust intently, instead, you will endure the slow torment of these soft bristles. What the sight of you makes me fantasise about, I want to make you fantasise about tenfold.

If you’re a good girl and hold your hips still, you’ll feel the brush focusing directly on that deliciously swollen clitoris. Until I think you’re ready for that mercy, however, you’ll feel those soft bristles, like feather tips, gliding gently up and down your mound and along your juicy, wet pussy lips. The brush has become slightly wet from sinking along your folds and tantalising your desperate entrance. I can see how the trail glistens against the smooth skin of your wonderful, plump little mound, so elevated with arousal.

Behind the blindfold and within the restraints, you may be imagining all manner of tongues flicking against your clit. Maybe you’re thinking of fingers or stiff lengths slipping up and down at the ready to slide inside and fuck you intensely. Yet, for now, you’ll need to relax as much as you can, as you’ll be enduring the fluttering motions of this brush for a long, long time.

Content created by: PleasureTorture

Model: Nova Gold

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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Perhaps if you’d have taken heed of the warnings, you wouldn’t be here. How reckless it was to traverse home alone, but it is too late now. She told you at the beginning that she hadn’t decided what to do with you, whether she’d devour your soul with your climax or whether to let you live and keep you as her sex toy. You believe her though, that while you might beg for the latter option, in time you’ll be wishing you chose the first. The way her mouth works you as if she’s known more about your pleasures than you could ever fathom yourself, keeping you shivering non-stop.

Every time your length slips between her lips, you let out a groan of pleasure, the likes of which has never escaped your mouth before. Her tongue wraps around and cradles the head of that pulsating cock as if to let it know that it will never escape. After merely thirty minutes, she has you whimpering in need to come, yet your moans and imploring words do not satiate her nearly as much as the pulse within every vein and each twitch of longing.

No matter how much you ask, she won’t answer just how long she’ll hold you on the brink. All she tells you is that when you do come, it will feel like every orgasm you have ever experienced in your life rolled into one.

She can feel every nerve-ending signal just how close you are, feel the moments when you need a little more friction or speed, even feel the times when you start to pray that she’ll let you fuck her. Perhaps if she had told you, however, that the saliva of her kind could keep you safely erect for hours, that she’d be able to keep sucking you for as long as she wanted, maybe you wouldn’t have been begging to come quite so fast.

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