You won’t need your panties again for the rest of the week. You’re so wet you’re soaking right through them anyway. It’ll only worsen.
Is this what my words today caused? It probably didn’t help I put these panties on after 10 nice edges with my fingers and five minutes of careful, deep thrusts.
It’s a nice start but you’re not yet drooling down your thighs. I think we need to pick up where we left off. Who knows, maybe I’ll let you cum tonight.
Now where were we?
That’s a good girl. Let go and accept your body is no longer yours to control. Tonight, we go further. I’m going to make you more desperate to cum than ever. First, by whispering in your ear how I can feel how badly you need it, how long its been, how good it’d feel to release and let your orgasm crash through you. All the while fucking you in your favorite position, my cock hitting those oh-so-good spots that make your normally innocent lips shout, “Fuck!” When I feel you tense up and start to squeeze, I stop and my hands begin to move, finding your wet, swollen clit and rubbing just like you like. It doesn’t take long and I feel you stretch out before trying to get me to fuck you.
“Ahh, ah,” I tease. “You won’t be able to resist both.”
As I feel your clit twitching I carefully move my hand away, spreading your lips with my fingers and keeping your clit exposed.
Then I start fucking you again. You won’t be able to last as long as last time. I feel you moaning again.
“Please!” you shout, beautifully desperate.
I just smile into your ear.
“No.”
You’re at the edge again. Again I stop my hips and resume my fingers. You can take even less circling.
Soon…it won’t be long now…you’ll only be able to take a couple thrusts, then a couple circles.
And I intend to go back and forth between them, edging your pussy and clit without mercy, until you break.
Then I’ll give you both at the same time.
Slowly.
Gently.
But always stopping just short.
We’re not there yet…
My cock starts again. Harder.
I just wanna hold somebody down on their stomach and fuck them with a strap on for hours. I wanna edge them til they cant take it anymore and leave them whimpering and unsatisfied, then forbid them from touching themselves for two days.
It starts off so subtle. The gentle, yet stiff fibers are almost whisper soft. It feels nice, almost a little ticklish to start. But about 15 minutes of slow painting over your lips, the wetness begins to seep out, surprising you a little. Without commenting, I gather it up on my brush and continue. The bristles glistening, they slide even more luxuriously around and over your clit.
I take the brush away and replace it with my tongue, the new sensation feels twice as good as I up the pressure slightly, reminding you how much better it can be. It also serves to hasten your pace to the edge.
Almost as soon as I start with my tongue, I remove it, letting your pussy pulse and begin aching for more. I pick up the brush again. For the next 30 minutes I trace your lips and just the outside of your hood, feeling you try to lean into me, trying to aim it where you need it.
“Hold still,’ I say, firmly. “I won’t ask again.”
You freeze, mind racing. What does that mean? “Will he spank my pussy again or, worse, stop altogether?”
Before you can consider it further you feel the brush on the edge of your clit again. Only upstrokes. So frustrating, those. A slight punishment, but you still feel yourself getting closer. You’ve been denied so long even that is enough to eventually get you to cum.
But your orgasm is a distant thought of mine. The edge is where you belong. And that’s where I intend to keep you.
After an hour, you’re a wet mess, but my plan has succeeded. Your clit twitches and pulses hard now, with each contact of the brush. You’re close. So fucking close.
I pause again, slowly put my fingers inside you. You nearly explode, but I’m careful. So careful. I want to fuck you with them, with my cock. But I know you’re at your limit. But I’m not done. I intend to walk that line between orgasm and not…between ecstasy and agony…until you’re mine completely. It won’t be long. The added stimulation of my fingers has you quivering…your pussy clenching involuntarily, but not regularly. A good sign..for me. That means you’re not quite at the edge again.
I notice you haven’t breathed in a few seconds.
“Breathe, baby,” I say, bringing you back to reality. You do, quickly. “Good girl. I don’t want you passing out yet. Not when we have so many more edges to go.”
The brush resumes, your horny, frustrated mews begin to fill the air again. Your clit spasms again, I feel your pussy clench tightly. I can almost FEEL the pleasure surging through you again. You try to remain motionless when you just want to thrash all over and hold my face between your legs as my tongue finishes you off.
I pause again.
Now I have you.
You’re fucked.
You’re mine.
100 more to go.
Wanna be sat on the floor while my Miss is on the couch reading and I have a vibe in me and it’s bringing right to the edge of cumming then bringing me back but I don’t try and get her attention because I know that if I’m good she’ll reward me. I want her to edge me until she’s finished her chapter, and I want her to take ages, I want her to let me cry next to her softly, head buried in her lap as my body shakes because I was so close but she brought me away again. I want my head to spin and fog up and for me to be so lost in the endless pleasure that I don’t notice her close her book and pick up the remote until she’s flicked the setting all the way up and pressed her foot against the vibrator and told me to cum like the good Little slut I am. I want her to call me her good girl, her best baby girl, her Miss’s most precious little slut and not move her foot until it hurts to cum anymore
“Hold it, hold it! Don’t cum. You can do it, just a little longer! Fight it! Here, I’ll help you. Don’t worry, I’ll keep doing this till the timer goes off, just focus on your tits and hold off, that’s my good girl.”
She doesn’t know it yet, but this is how she will edge every day for the next week.
After that, just pinching her nipples will be enough to make her wet, needy, and eager to do whatever he wants.
That’s a good girl. Put on a show for us. Let the quiet murmurs fade into the depth of your brain as the pleasure builds. There is nothing else in the world but your clit and the relentless vibrations causing your cries of pleasure to echo through the hotel room.
I walk over to you and whisper,
“Remember, no cumming. You’re our denial whore tonight. Count out those edges louder.”
The feel of my hand making sharp contact with our ass drives the point home.
“Maybe after you reach 30 I’ll hold you over my lap and tease My clit while you suck our friend here.”
Your moan at the thought makes me smile.
“Twenty-one, Sir!” you shout, lifting your pussy off the wand.
“More,” says another voice. Good. He’s getting it.
“You heard him, pet. Down.”
Your frustrated tone morphs again to pure pleasure as the vibrations begin to overwhelm you again.
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.”
“Okay, Princess. Let’s put these clips here so that you’re all nice and exposed and vulnerable. Awww, baby. You’re so red and swollen. Does that feel good when I rub your little clit like that? Do you want to cum? I know you do. I can see you clench. Don’t worry, though, I won’t let your silly urges ruin all this progress. That’s right, no cumming for you. I’ll keep edging your lovely sensitive cunt for a while longer and then I’ll let you suck my cock before we put you away. That’s right, whimper for me baby. Good girl.”
Sir decided yesterday that after a couple of days of no-touch for me, we were going to focus on the Slow Build. It’s one of his favourite ways to torture me with pleasure.
Sir had me sit, spread, next to him and commanded me to keep my hips still. He kissed my neck and shoulders all over and then slipped his hand down into my panties to gently circle my clit. Slow, soft circles right on my sensitive little bud. Never speeding up, never pressing harder, no matter how much I begged. And I begged so much, desperately clutching his shirt or pinching and pulling my nipples to distract me from how much I wanted to buck my hips for him. But I didn’t because I’m his good girl. He played with my clit like that for minute after minute and slowly the pleasure started to build. Fuck it felt so good. He just kept circling as a wave of pleasure built up in my cunt, taking me closer and closer to the edge…. and then he’d stop. And tell me to go do something. To cook breakfast, or clean the bathroom, to suck his cock, to read my book. He’d give me plenty of time to calm down, for my nerves to relax back to zero.
And then the command would come again: sit down, legs spread, no moving. And he’d start those little circles again, building me back up from the start.
He did this over and over all day until my thighs were slick with my arousal and I was losing my mind. Finally he told me to lie on the bed, legs spread, no moving. He slid his cock into me, and started gently, slowly fucking me while he resumed the circles. And when I was at the edge again, he took his hand away, grabbed my hips, and started pounding my cunt. He knows I can’t cum from penetration alone. He left me there on the edge, soaked and desperate, while he took his pleasure in me. He pulled out and came all over my cunt, the hot drops splashing across my aching clit.
Then he rolled me against his chest, turned out the light, kissed my hair and told me how much he loves me. And I curled into him, safe and happy and denied.
my corner 