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I really love pussy tickle torture.
Imagine having a pussy and clit that were were actually ticklish. Like someone touching them made you break out into giggles and laughter, and even trying to masturbate by yourself was impossible because you were so sensitive. You’d get to the edge and stop because you couldn’t stand how ticklish it was. You were always wet and needy, you had never come before, no matter how hard you tried. And if anyone you were with tried your reactions scared them away from trying.
Until you met him. When you had nervously explained, his expression changed. He comforted you, smiled, and you couldn’t help but relax. He asked if he could tie you down. You agreed. Then he let you in on a little secret. He loved tickling helpless little girls like yourself, and the idea of you being that ticklish turned him on incredibly, he simply needed to test it for himself. He brought out feathers of different shapes and sizes, and told you what he would do with each one. How he’d tease and tickle and torture you. How he could be the first to make you experience an orgasm, but maybe he wouldn’t, maybe he’d just edge you instead, tickle you til you were willing to do anything for it to stop. For some reason the thought made you wet. It didn’t go unnoticed.
And so he tickled you, all of your most vulnerable spots: your armpits, your sides, inner thighs, feet. He ignored your soaked pussy all the while murmuring dirty things in your ear. You knew your most ticklish spot was your clit, but it didn’t stop you from begging him to tickle you there, anything to stop it from aching and throbbing.
He listened. He made fun of you as you went into full blown hysterics and begging, how you had begged him for this. You wanted this. He teased and tickled slowly, switching between your clit and around your pussy lips. It drove you insane. The light teasing brought you to a slow edge, building building building so slowly til it felt like you would explode.
Then he pulled the feather away and began tickling your nipples. You cried out, tears beginning to form. His laughter made your cunt throb. After you cooled down, he repeated it, bringing you to a slow edge and stopping. It went on for what felt like hours, til you were a sobbing mess.Until you promised anything if he would just keep going. “Anything?”
He made you promise to be his ticklish little pet, to be able to tease and tickle and edge you to his hearts content. As he edged you again, he chuckled, smug in that he was the only one who could make you come, that he could keep you denied for days, weeks, months, as long as he wanted. He could make you come this once then never let you come again, let you know what it feels like only to rip it away from you and hold it out in front of you, out of reach. But if you were a good girl, and let him torture you as he pleased, he may let you come sometimes. The words drove you to that feeling quickly, he had to rip the feather away before you came too soon.
You agreed, through your laughter and sobbing and whimpers, you swore you’d do anything to come. He put the feather back and tickled your clit so softly, you tittered and moaned. He smirked, letting you know he saw how your body reacted to the idea of being tortured and not allowed to come, that he would make sure if he let you come, you’d earn it. How much you would suffer. How he would use you and torture you daily, while you stayed desperate and frustrated.
That threw you over the edge. The feeling slowly built til it felt like your whole body was overcome by waves of heat and pleasure, you had never felt anything like it. It seemed to go on forever, but eventually it died down and was replaced with something else. The feather was still moving.
If you thought you were ticklish before, this was one hundred times worse. It was then he teasingly told you how after an orgasm most people became very sensitive. You barely heard him through your own laughter. After a while it became less torturous and pleasure began to build again. Right as you got to another edge – he stopped.
“I hope you enjoyed that, you won’t be coming again for a long, long time.”
She can edge as often as she wants, but there is a price to pay.
After the first ten edges, he whips her ass.
After the second ten, he whips her breasts.
After the third ten, he restrains her, clamps her nipples, and whips her well edged pussy.
Then she’s on no touch for a week.
She has permission to cum, if she can do it like this. Slow, gentle, delicate licks, with that slight pause between them, until the alarm goes off.
She is not permitted to move, or add any stimulation. This is all she gets.
If she can’t cum, well. She obviously doesn’t REALLY need to cum then, does she?
Next permission in two weeks.
Getting a girl to crave anal is really quite simple.
Make her edge all week, then cum like this on Sundays.
Shouldn’t take more than a couple of months.
Silly girl, what do you mean you need to come? You don’t need to come, you want to come, there’s a big difference between the two. Do you know what would happen if I never let you come again?
…No, you wouldn’t die. I’m sure you’d want to die from how often I’d tease and edge you, but no. You’d live out the rest of your life, constantly needy and willing to do anything for the chance to come. I could have you do the most disgusting, depraved of things, just by holding an orgasm over your head. An orgasm I’d never give you. And anytime you lashed out, I’d beat you until you were back to being my good horny little girl.
Now let’s get a few more edges in…who knows, maybe we’ll try it out and see how far I can push you.
“Not quite wet enough, princess. Let’s see how long it takes rubbing you over your panties like this for you to soak them through. Then maybe we’ll think about taking them off.”
Flick. Flick.
The brush was pure torment against her clit but since he made clear it was her only stimulation to her poor denied pussy for that day, she remained in place and simply endured it.
my corner 