rose

I’d keep you denied, for weeks, as long as it took, all the while teasing you, and using your body for my own pleasure. Teasing would mostly involve making you do humpies on things – my leg, your pillow, random furniture, etc. – but ensuring you didn’t get excited enough to get close to the edge, since any accidents could ruin your progress.

Once I felt you were sufficiently desperate, I’d begin letting you get close to the edge, as a reminder of what you’re being denied. I surely wouldn’t keep you denied forever, so at some point you’ll be allowed to have cummies, again. I would just be sure to toy with that idea as much as possible in order to keep you hopeful and achy and wanting.

Eventually, the mere idea of orgasm would be so compelling and laden with desire for nearly-forgotten pleasures that any mention of allowing you that luxury would cause an even greater swelling of anticipatory need. At that point I would begin to build up the event in your mind, telling you how amazing it will feel after being denied for so long, how intense your release will be, how overwhelmed you’ll be from pleasure. I’ll create an idealized, irrational, unrealistic expectation of orgasmic enjoyment for you to fetishize as you suffer continued frustration and denial.

Then, finally, I would arrange a circumstance, filled with humiliation, naturally, where you know you’ll be allowed to earn your cummies. you would struggle, desperate for your orgasm, to debase and degrade yourself sufficiently to please me. Eventually, you would earn it, and I’d build up the moment even further, telling you how you’ll be cumming on my cock, while bound and debased, and how good you’re about to feel. I’d build you up, working your body slowly to heights of arousal you can’t fathom. And just as you begin to tip over that edge into long-awaited release, I’d ruin it. I’d ruin you.

I’d pull out, pin you in place so you can’t even squeeze your thighs together, holding you there while you thrash and beg and plead. Once the tortuous ruin has passed, I’ll take my pleasure from your throat, despite, or because of, your continued begging.

Every evening, they made her cum hard and repeatedly. Even as they took measurements for her chastity belt. Even after it arrived and they made her wear it overnight. Even after they noted some chafing and it disappeared for a few days, returning slightly modified and much more comfortable, fitting her perfectly. Even as she was forced to wear it more often. Even as she found herself locked into it every minute, even to shower once she was taught how to rinse herself clean while locked, except for when they were inspecting her, using her, and forcing her to cum.

She thought she knew what was coming… except that’s when the nightly forced orgasm torture became even more intense and sadistic instead. “Are you ready?” they’d taunt her after wringing out another orgasm, “Cum nice and hard for us, it might be your last for months. Do you know how long you’ve been here, cumming hard every night? Do you remember how difficult that was the first few nights when your body wasn’t used to it? When all these orgasms were too much for you? But now you’re used to it, aren’t you, toy? Now you’re able to cum, and cum, and cum, and now you’ve stopped fighting to keep your sanity and just give in, don’t you? Now, your body needs it. Expects it. Craves it. Can you guess what it will be like on the first of many, many nights where you stay locked, slut? Oh my, did you just cum again while thinking about that? Good girl! Cum again for me! Cum and memorize what it feels like to cum. Cum for us like it’s the last orgasm you’ll ever have!

"Good girl! Do you want what comes next, yet? Do you want to find out how mind-bendingly desperate we can make you? We know exactly when you’re about to cum. We’ll know exactly when to stop to deny you these wonderful spasms. That your cunt will be extra sensitive from weeks of being locked away without even a feather’s teasing strokes? That will just make it easier for us to torment you. Imagine what an entertaining you you’ll be, the look on your face when we lock the belt back on without even letting you edge.

With help from a bunch of lesbians from youtube:

“I think lesbians are smarter in a sense that we know what we want and we go for it, that’s why we’re gay”

“so if you’re at a party and you see the hottest girl there who turns out to be bisexual, whats your reaction?” “that’s really unfortunate”

“if she can make me laugh then I might be able to get past the fact that she had a dick in her mouth last week”

“if you’re with a lesbian then you know that they’re going to be going for you, for a woman, but if you’re with a bisexual…”

and a special mention for personal experience:

“I’ll have to keep a meter away from you tonight, otherwise you might make out with me haha”

“I wanted to tell you that you looked good last night but someone told me not because you might make out with me”

we constantly get told not to attend pride unless we’re in a same sex relationship, get degrading comments from both the gay community and straight people, are told we aren’t ‘queer enough’ and that because we can pass as straight we don’t deserve a place in LGBTQ+ spaces.