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royb8771:

pirate-king-of-trance:

orgasmictipsforgirls:

Hypnotized (m/f)

My friends and I were at a bar across town. It was dark, a little loud, underground, with dim red lights and drinks that cost too much. But there were lots of plush little booths and we managed to snag ourselves a corner, so we sat and got deep into drinking and chatting.

After an hour or so, there was a big commotion going on in one corner with people falling around laughing. Before we saw what was going on, everyone involved had stumbled away hooting and giggling. But my friend Rachel leads me over and there’s this young guy kind of holding court.

“What’s going on?” Rachel asks, over the music.
“Oh, I’m hypnotising people,” he says, casually, like people do that all the time.
“For real? You’re a hypnotist?”
“Yes I am,” he says.
Rachel thinks this is hysterical. I think it sounds ridiculous.
“We should dooooooo this!” she says, waving over the two other friends we’re out with.
“Should we?”
“We should! YOU should.”
“I don’t think so,” I say, but she’s already tugging on this guy’s arm… and pushing me towards him.
“Hypnotise Emma!”
“Yeah?”
“She REALLY wants to!”
He looks at me.
“Do you want to?”
“Uh, I’m pretty sure I’m un-hypnotisable.”
“Well,”
he says. “Wanna find out?”
“You can try,” I say. I’m smirking a little bit. Silly me.
“Well, OK then. Here, take a seat.”

Like I said, I thought it was ridiculous.

There are two small wooden chairs facing each other and I sit in one. I smooth down the short, tight little dress I’m wearing. He – neat grey t-shirt, jeans, a tattoo of swirling black lines, like a soundwave, on one arm, a mischievous sparkle in his deep brown eyes, like someone who’s just had a sinfully good idea  –  sits on the other one, pulls it closer so our knees are almost touching. I’m a little nervous… but determined not to let it show.

“OK,” he says. He takes my arms and places them on the arm of my chair, palms up. He holds my hands with his and gives them a reassuring squeeze.
“You OK?”
“I’m fine.”

“This is going to be fun, OK?”
“Well, if you say so.”

Three of my friends are now gathered watching us. I hear Rachel say “I bet she thinks she’s a chicken five minutes from now.”

He lets go of my hands and wraps his gently around my wrists, his thumb on each, like he’s taking my pulse. He starts talking to me low and urgently, looking into my eyes warmly.

“So what’s your name?”
“Emma.”
“Where are we?”
“A bar.”
“What colour are the lights here?”
“Red.”
“Only red?”
“Some white.”
“What’s your name again?”
“Emma.”
”OK, Emma. We’re good.”

His thumbs are tracing circles on my skin.

His questions became… rhetorical. Think of my feet on the floor. Were they heavy? Did it feel good to just rest them there? Doesn’t it feel warm? Isn’t the chair comfortable?

It did feel comfortable. It felt like the second when an elevator stops descending and you’re that little bit heavier. I felt warm like sinking into a fresh bath. He put his hand on my bare shoulder. It felt solid and good.

Didn’t I feel calm? Isn’t it nice? Try closing my eyes. Keep listening to his voice. Even raised over the music is voice, is like a heavy blanket on a lazy Sunday. His hand slides to rest under my hair, on the back of my neck. Weren’t my wrists relaxed? Like they could rest on the arms of the chair forever. His other hand taps out a rhythm on my knee. Calm like warm sunshine on my skin. The sounds around me drift off into a dull hubbub. This was more relaxing than I th…

…I open my eyes and time has jumped just a little. Maybe it’s a few seconds later – or a few minutes? Which was weird. But it can’t have been long. My friends were all still there. And I still felt good. Calm. Nice. The rest of the world feels a little muffled, like the air is thicker.

“All awake, Emma?”
I nod.
“How do you feel?”
“I feel… fine.”
“That’s good.”

He rested his fingertips on my wrists and… oh.

“How does that feel?”

For some reason, it felt SO good. It was like one of those feelings that ran all through your body, like the feeling I get when my neck is being kissed, or my nipples are teased, or having ‘good girl’ growled quietly in my ear.

“It feels good,” I murmured. I was still sort of sleepy.

His fingertips started running slowly up and down my wrists, from my up-turned palms to the crook of my elbow. It was like the sexiest teasing I’d ever felt. Tingles rushed up to my shoulders and through my chest. I could feel my nipples getting hard under my dress.

“Do you like the way it feels?”

I nodded. The tingling was spreading through my tummy and between my legs. I was calm and floaty and burningly turned on all at once. He pulled his hands away. I bit my lip in frustration.

“More?”
“Yeah.”

He picked up his chair and moved it. I felt him sit down behind me. He leaned in close and whispered “Close your eyes…” into my ear. I did what I was told.

The moment his hands touched my back I gasped like lightning ran down my spine to my crotch. Every tiny hair on my neck stood up in reaction to his touch.

“Fuck.”

Each stroke of my shoulder blades felt like being stroked… everywhere, all at once. My clit was getting harder and more sensitive with each rub. My underwear felt hot and wet. I could barely control my breathing.

His hands slid over my shoulders and teasingly over my upper arms. It was like ecstasy. Just the fabric of my underwear against my clit was delicious. I slid my ass against the wooden chair instinctively trying to find some friction or relief. As he blew gently on the back of my neck I leaned back and spread my legs in the confused hope of being touched. I fucking ached with pleasure.

“It’s such a strong feeling,” he murmured in my ear, “when you think about it.”

He pulled his hands away once again. My heart was thudding in my chest, my nipples were hard through the fabric of my dress which had ridden up from my accidental grinding against the seat. Even with my eyes closed, I looked like a hot mess but I was so turned on I was beyond caring. I was just glad the club was so dark.

He puts brought his chair around to my side and just in front, so it was perpendicular to me. He sits in, close.

“How are you feeling?”
I open my eyes. I’m dimly aware of the giggling of my friends, and the gaze of some other onlookers over me. I feel a wave of heat as my face reddens.
“Don’t worry about them,” he says. “Look at me.”
“This is crazy,” I mouthed.
”I told you it would be fun.”
I’m speechless.
“Keep going?”
I was nodding before I even thought about it.

He scoots in front of me a little more. “Put your leg on my lap, Emma.” I lift my bare leg and place it tentatively across his knees.

His hand rests on my knee and a jolt of pleasure hit me. It snakes up my thigh to my wet cunt and fizzles deep me, my hips twitching. To my embarrassment I let out a moan of pure pleasure.

His fingertips are stroking my skin in soft, little circles. My thighs are starting to shake. Laughter among the crowd sends me blushing. He shakes his head in their direction and then looks at me.

“Emma, look at me.”
His twinkling eyes lock mine.
“You’ve been doing really well. Don’t worry about them. Listen to my voice.”

I nod in breathless agreement. His fingertips start drumming slowly on top of my thigh, one-two-three, one-two-three, one-two three..

It feels like a fluttering feeling inside me and I scrunch my eyes closed in delight. I squirm in my seat, squeezing my thighs together tightly just for a hint of pressure on my clit.

“Emma, look at me.”
“You’ve been doing really well. I know it feels intense. It feels so strong…”

I’m trembling with each quickening tap. One-two-three-one-two-three-one-two-three-one-two-three…

“It’s getting stronger and stronger, Emma. Like you can’t hold back.”

The drumming moves imperceptibly up my thigh, to the edge of my dress and it feels 100 times stronger. I’m arching my back. My hands grip the arm of the chair like they’re my bedsheets when I’m touching myself. I’m so close…

“Emma, listen to me.”
“Oh my god.”
“Emma, listen.”
“I’m… please… I…”
“Let go.”

With those two words the orgasm hits me like an explosion, my thighs clamping together, the contractions in my cunt are so strong I bend double in my chair.

“Let go.”

It feels like I’m being fucked hard and deep while I cum, my g-spot is spasming with pleasure. I cry out helplessly.

“Let go.”

His hand gripping my thigh sends another orgasm shivering through my clit and then bursting inside of me. I feel a hot flood of wetness soak through my panties as I involuntarily squirt a little.

“Let go.”

I slump back in the chair as my hips jolt into the air. I can hear my friends shrieking with laughter as they watch me orgasm uncontrollably. I try to hold back but I can’t stop cumming. Each squeeze of my thigh sends another wave of powerful juddering contractions through my pussy, makes me moan, twitch, gush, gasp, grind, shake, cum.

I’ve never cum for so long.

“OK, you. Come here.”

He takes my leg off his lap and comes in close to me. He wraps his hand on my neck and pulls me toward him, my forehead resting on my shoulder, exhausted and trembling. “Just relax,” he murmurs. “Listen to my voice…”

I sink back into a calm darkness.

A few moments later I wake up, sheepish and embarrassed… but even so, I can’t stop grinning. He strokes my wrist one last time – no unbearable pleasure, this time – and smiles. I tentatively stand up, and my legs are like jelly. Rebecca grabs me incredulously and says “OH. MY. GOD.”

“I. KNOW.”

I tell her I have to excuse myself to use the bathroom and shakily stumble in that direction. It’s busy with girls streaming in and out, but in the mirror, I see my face and chest are flushed pink. And my hair’s a mess.

I shut myself in the cool dark cubicle and slide off my panties, down my ankles and over my shoes and step out of them. They’re so drenched from my cum I throw them in the trash can. I instinctively reach between my legs and fuck, I’m still so wet and sensitive. I lean back against the cubicle door and let my fingertips find my slick, hard, throbbing clit. It feel so good to finally feel the touch my body had been craving.

Around me were the sounds of doors opening and closing, girls talking, water running, the throbbing music from next door and the hand-dryer blowing.

I was so hungry to feel full inside and I greedily pushed two fingers deep inside, sliding in deliciously easily. My knees buckled with satisfaction as I slowly, quietly fucked myself. Each time the hand dryer switched on, I pumped my fingers in and out hard and fast, the noise of the motor covering the sounds of my wetness, until it stopped and I had to wait for more agonising seconds.

When I couldn’t take it any more, with one last blast of the hand dryer, I frantically rubbed my clit, my other hand grabbing my tit, and then those commanding words “Let go… let go… let go…” suddenly reverberating in my head, until, my hand clamped over my mouth, I came for the second time that night, my legs buckling in shock, sliding down the cubicle door until I was sat on my heels, waves of pleasure still shuddering through my thighs.

I sat on the toilet for a few minutes and straightened myself out, until the red flush of orgasm had faded from my chest. Then I went back out to join my friends… embarrassed, sans underwear but oh-so-satisfied.

And when I’m alone, the words ‘let go…’ can still push me over the edge sometimes :)”

Ok now that was just… WOW.

Wow, that was awesome

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taoist4tease:

Short video clip.  A man lays naked on his back, a woman is sitting on his face, she is watching as touches his cock with one hand.  He is trying not to move, but his hips and legs are shaking.  She reaches down and pulls his hand away from his cock, just as semen starts to leak out. Her other hand holds a riding crop, and as he leaks she begins striking his balls with the riding crop.

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teazdndenied:

Christine was absolutely glowing with delight as she looked at Matthew, his feverishly aroused body so broken with need and frustration that he now virtually hung from his bonds at the foot of her bed. For hours she had mercilessly teased and tantalized his helpless body, her lips and fingers roaming his quivering flesh as they pleased, her soft curvy body pressing and writhing against him. Over and over she worked his body to the point of explosion, only to cruelly deny him, leaving his body shaking and aching, his agonizing need to cum always building, never diminishing.

And when she wasn’t physically teasing him, she was wickedly tormenting him visually, slowly and sensually masturbating herself to orgasm after orgasm before his eyes. As she moaned and purred in pleasure, poor Matthew whimpered and groaned in to his gag, his eyes wide, his poor cock throbbing and drooling, his hips instinctively, futilely, trying to thrust in search of relief.

Now, she had succeeded in reducing Matthew to that point where he was a quivering, trembling, broken wreck. Christine smiled at the sweet, incoherent sounds of need coming from him as her captive looked down helplessly at the way her toes gently toyed with his aching cock and heavy cum-filled balls.

Gazing up at him she teased in a soft voice, “Aww, poor baby…. what’s the matter Matthew? Wanna cum sweetheart?“ When he was barely able to whimper an incoherent reply Christine chuckled softly then wickedly taunted, “One little favor honey? Do tell me if you’re about to pass out….. I’m not finished with you yet and I simply can’t have you ruining my fun like that.”

She bit her lip gently at the sound of his pitiful, muffled whimper and in a soft voice teased, “Want some more baby?…. hmm?….. was that enough of a little break for you sweetheart?” Still not satisfied, Christine then seductively crawled on her hands and knees like a tigress toward her bound captive.

When she reached him she sat up tall and proud on her knees, letting her large, soft breasts press against his trembling chest while her nails raked lightly along his bound, helpless body. Christine laughed softly at his muffled moan and how intensely his body quivered from her touch. She then smirked as she heard soft helpless whimpers coming from him when she allowed her hand to trail agonizingly slowly from his chest down toward his aching, frustrated cock.

In a soft voice she teased, “Aww, what’s the matter baby?…. are you scared Matthew?….. sweetheart, I would never ever hurt you… you know that.” Instead, she gently, lovingly, wrapped her soft warm hand around his desperately aroused cock. “Ready baby?…. ready for more?,” she whispered huskily.

Christine smiled at the sweet, tormented sound that came from him when her silky fingers once again resumed to lightly tease, caress, and stroke along the length of him. “Poor helpless boy,” she cooed softly, feeling his defenseless cock once again begin to swell toward the bursting point beneath her touch.

Smiling to herself, she knew that Matthew was the one. And, this was the time. Christine purred with lust as she savored the sight of him… bound, spread, beautifully framed between the bedposts at the foot of her bed – a helpless tribute to the irresistible power of her female sexuality in an artistic display of agonizing male frustration.

Yes indeed, Matthew was going to be her masterpiece – her glorious, exquisite tease masterpiece.

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a-male-gaze:

Clit Cage

(nonconsent, pain, denial, extreme)

She’d been very reluctant, but her husband had explained it to her. “These people have a deeply held belief that women should not experience pleasure during sex. We can’t be seen to infringe their religious freedoms, especially considering the situation back home.”

Oh, she’d been so excited back when her husband had been appointed Ambassador to Misogytopia. It was a significant career advancement, and it would do wonders for her own prospects once the posting was over. Now she deeply regretted having moved here with him. He’d told her how important it was, of course. An Ambassador without a wife would not be respected by the locals.

Now she was about to take another, much more intimate step for the sake of that respect. She was tied securely to a metal frame, wearing her stockings and an elegant top but nothing in between. In front of her stood an elderly man who was staring between her widely spread legs and frowning. The Ambassador had asked around to find the very best practitioner.

The old man took a small wooden device and pressed it against her vulva. There was a crank on the end of the device. He turned the crank and the device started vibrating, its two halves pressing on her pussy lips in alternation. He turned it steadily, patiently, forcefully, until she started breathing heavily and felt her clit twitch and wake up. When she moved her hips, he took the device away and knelt down in front of her crotch, staring intently.

She blushed as she realized her pussy was all swollen and red, and her clit now stood up and peeked out from under its hood. Having this stranger inspect it so clinically made her feel more shy than she’d ever been before.

He took out a small metal cup, shaped like a thimble except that it had small holes instead of indentations. He carefully placed it at the top of her slit, then slid a little tube over the cup. The tube was connected to a hand pump, and with a few quick squeezes he had sucked her clit and its hood up into the thimble, filling it completely. She gasped at the intense feeling, but he ignored her reaction.

Then he took out a delicate curved needle and started stitching the rim of the thimble to the flesh around her clitoris.

Her husband had not quite understood. He had asked for the “best” practitioner, but in this context the word also meant “most painful”. The stitching was normally a ten minute job but his wife’s screams of agony echoed from the embassy for more than an hour.

The Ambassador gained a lot of respect that day.

Now her clit was caged. It and its hood permanently filled the thimble, and the stitches held everything in place. The hard metal prevented her from getting any pleasure out of rubbing it or pressing on it. Neither did she get anything from pulling or twisting or anything else she tried over the following weeks. She had been used to almost daily self-pleasuring sessions, and now all she had was frustration.

When she had sex with her husband, which used to feel so good as he slammed his weight into her cunt again and again, she felt nothing except an uncomfortable sensation whenever the cage moved and pulled on the stitches. Most times she would cry when they had sex, which was also something that increased her husband’s status after the household staff heard it and remarked on it.

However, not all was roses for the Ambassador. As his wife grew more frustrated, she frequently expressed her anger to him, sometimes in full view of the staff. When he discussed that problem with the city governor, who was a good friend of his, the governor seemed surprised at his difficulty. “When she does that, just add a pin. She will behave.”

The Ambassador expressed his confusion, and the governor said he would demonstrate. “Please call her in,” he said, and the wife was duly summoned.

“Excellent. Now take off your underthings, sit here on the coffee table, and spread your legs. Show us your cunt,” he said matter-of-factly.

She blushed furiously, but something about the governor’s stern look and her husband’s attentive gaze made her comply.

“Hmm, she does have a nice one. I understand why you feel strongly about her.”

“It’s not just that,” her husband started to protest, but then he remembered to go along with local custom and just nodded.

“Now, when she misbehaves, you just do this.”

The governor leaned forward, and deftly inserted a sharp little pin through one of the holes in the clit cage. The pin went all the way through her most sensitive flesh, with its head flush against the hole and its point almost reaching the other side. The wife threw her head back and screamed in pain, then curled up on the coffee table, hugging her knees and sobbing.

“See? She will remember, and every time she steps out of line or fails to satisfy you, you just put in a pin. Here, take these,” said the governor, handing the Ambassador a small box of elegantly fashioned pins. “Use them when needed. Or, you know, just add some when you feel like it.” He winked lecherously as he said this. “She will feel the pain every time she moves and every time you use her.”

The Ambassador shifted uncomfortably to hide his growing erection. “Very interesting. Thank you for the gift. And, how long should I leave the pin in?”

“How long?” The governor raised an eyebrow. “You misunderstand. The pins lock into the frame. You only add.”

The Ambassador nodded, his eyes wide and shining. A new phase of their marriage had begun.