Dove 🕊️

i pull her head off my cock using the fistful of her hair ive been grabbing for the last 15 minutes, allowing her to cough properly.

"eugh," she splutters out. "how much longer-" she's cut off as i force her head back down, forcing myself down her throat.

"we're done when i say we're done, slut. maybe if you worked your tongue a little more, youd already be free to keep playing your new game," i sneer. despite the constant "lessons" i keep giving her (for free, too!), my older sister has barely improved at sucking dick. at least she knows how to make the view worthwhile, i think, admiring the arch of her back and her soft ass, so perfectly held up behind her.

i take a moment to ponder the full picture from the little viewer i can see on the camcorder. theres me, kneeling on my pillows, one hand gripping the cheap headboard while the other keeps a firm grasp on my sister's hair, holding her still while i rut into her mouth. my sister is laying on one elbow and her knees, wincing and gagging despite the fact that i can clearly see (and hear, for that matter) her fingers sliding messily over her clit, so carefully designed by world-renowned surgeons, just to be abused by a sister-fucking whore. the thought makes me throb, which she meets with a near inaudible whimper. if shed been born with that pussy, i would have had her knocked up before finishing freshman year.

i hear a small creak, and look towards the bedroom door that id left ajar after dragging her in here to record, and see a familiar black nose peeking through the crack at about doorknob height. i grin. today's the day.

our family adopted a mutt puppy when my sister started high school, to "train her to be more responsible, and encourage her to get off her computer every now and then." it didn't end up working out quite the way our parents envisioned. after a couple weeks, she'd given up on keeping up with his walks or training him, and i had to take over as his owner so mom and dad wouldnt put him up for adoption.

i spent a good 6 years training percy every useful hand-signalled command i could think of. sit, stay, heel, kennel, fetch, and of course, mount. our parents didnt see the point in neutering him since we had a completely fenced in yard with no dog park for 50 miles, and after trying (and failing) to manage his constant habit of humping every soft object he could climb onto, i began to experiment with redirecting him. to my parents, he "grew out" of his horny phase. to me, he became a co-conspirator (and a much cuter fucking-machine).

as percy starts to inch into the room, i start playing up the noise i'm making, fucking my sisters throat harder and faster to keep her from hearing the soft clink of a collar. i can see him sniffing the air curiously, tail gently wagging. as he properly trots up to the foot of the bed, i take my hand off the headboard and tell him to mount.

in seconds, he's jumped onto the bed and started grabbing at her ass. she tries to pull off of my cock, but i use both hands to hold her there, still rutting into her throat, which must be sore by now. shes squirming, pushing me as hard as she can in her weakened state, but notably not biting down. she could get me to let go if she really needed to. i shiver with sadistic pleasure.

percy has a firm grip around her hips now, paws latched under her with his hips wildly bucking, not quite used to her shape yet. i can see light red scratches already showing on her back. i'm so fucking glad i'm recording this.

"c'mon boy! you can do it! a little lower!" my grin is so wide it's offputting now. my little fleshlight has resorted to beating her fists against my thighs and choking sobs out in the brief gaps for air when i pull back. she almost screams as our sweet family dog finally hits his target.

his hips start moving faster and staying closer to her body. his back legs are moving frantically, scrambling for grip on the bed, her legs, anything at all and with no particular logic. i know from my own extensive experiences that he's already started cumming in her, warm, watery liquid pooling where her cervix would be, in stark contrast to my own cum, which i'm desperately trying not to unload down her throat quite yet.

i pull out for a moment, grip on my sister's head still harsh, and force her to look up at me. her eyes are red, although it's impossible to know whether it's from choking or from despair.

"p-please- AH!- make him s-stop- HAH! ah!"

"why should i? this is probably the most love he's felt from you since we adopted him, i think he's more than earned it."

she just stares at me, eyes deprived of light, face contorting briefly every few seconds when percy's claws dig in a bit harder.

it's too much for me. he's still humping her wildly, but i know that he's approaching his limit. i release one of my fistfuls of her hair to start stroking myself.

"i've wanted to do this for so long, you know," i tell her. "i've been molding you into such a fucking pervert that you get off on your fucking little sister raping you." i can feel it coming, hard and fast, as i work myself right over her tear-soaked face. "you had an out. you barely fucking fought back. its not like percy is especially- hah- strong." my hips start stuttering right after the dog's do. "god, i hope he fucking gets you pregnant. open."

despite the verbal abuse, she complies, opening her mouth for me to fuck it as she whines, percy's body relaxing over her, knot firmly stuck in her cunt. i force her nose so far in my bush that you'd think she was steve irwin, and groan while i cum down her throat, frantic grinding turning into slow, contented movements, before i pull out.

she gasps for air, coughing. i only realize she was grabbing my hips to pull me closer when she lets go of them.

i look at percy, lying on her and panting. she speaks softly.

"um... exactly... how long is he- nngh!- stuck for?"

"a while. i think he averages about 15 minutes nowadays, but he's gone 30 before."

"why am i not surprised that you've been fucking the dog?"

i laugh, loudly. "i gave up on trying to be secretive about it before we even moved out of mom and dad's place. i'm surprised nobody ever caught me, honestly!"

she whines as percy tugs, before eventually forcing his knot out, much to her displeasure.

"FUCK! i thought you said it'd be a while??"

"i said he averages, dipshit. learn to listen." i flick her in the forehead with my finger as she sits up to check that her goods arent damaged. i use the opportunity to turn off the recording and hook the camera up to my computer for storage. she grimaces.

"...is there really nothing i can do to get that deleted?"

"unless you want another more heinous scene recorded, then no. i won't upload it, obviously."

she looks a little relieved. i take the opportunity to follow up with "not unedited, at least. i'll take both our faces out of the footage, and it'll only go up on a private forum anyways. videos of you are always a hot commodity there."

she groans, putting her still-damp face in her hands. i sit down next to her on the comforter, running my hand over her hair and softly planting a kiss on her head.

"i love you. you know that, right?" i ask.

she doesnt respond. 5 seconds pass. 10. it's almost 15 before she says, "i know. i love you too.... and thank you."

And the inverse? Even sweeter. Every desperate clench of her cunt as she helplessly responded to his touch would answer here, in his hands, twitching like the pathetic, obedient thing it now was.

No consent. No escape. Just ownership, distilled into a box small enough to fit in his palm.

His thumb brushed the damp seam of the replica’s slit, so warm, so alive, and miles away, her breath hitched.

A grin split his face.

Time to play.

—

She’s getting ready for bed. Wearing just a big t-shirt and panties, freshly showered and sleepy. He knows because he installed cameras and microphones all throughout her apartment months ago. There isn’t a single thing she can do without him knowing.

He sits in front of his computer, multiple camera angles feeding him live video and audio. He opens the box with careful hands, her pretty pussy nestled within the lining. So cute, untouched, unsuspecting.

His fingers trail idly along the smooth, pliant flesh, and he watches as she flinches, eyes wide, glancing down at herself. He smiles.

And so it begins.

He doesn’t waste any time, his fingers moving to spread her pussy lips before he leans down and pulls her clit into his mouth, tongue moving in quick movements as he alternates between sucking and licking. He watches the way her body shuts down, shock and pleasure flooding her system as she collapses onto her bed.

He doesn’t care to give her any time to recover. Instead, he pulls his mouth away to replace his tongue with his fingers, rubbing her spit-slicked skin in tight, cruel circles, taking in the way her breath comes in fast gasps as she tries to press her legs together, confusion, fear, panic written all over her face.

It doesn’t take long before her clit is a trembling, hypersensitive nub between his fingers, swollen and darkened from relentless attention. He runs the pad of his thumb over it in slow, agonizing circles, feeling the way it pulses under his touch, tiny convulsions of pleading nerves that only make him smirk. On the screen, her legs jerk, her hips rising off the bed as her body betrays her, craving more even as her mind doesn’t undestand.

She’s a puppet, and he controls every string. He squeezes the delicate bud between his fingertips, rolling it like a toy, listening to the wet, obscene slickness of her cunt in the box mirroring the mess between her thighs on-screen. He can see the wet patch on her panties, the outline of her pretty pussy clear behind the soaked fabric.

Her clit pulses under his fingers, a trembling, engorged little nub, dark as a bruise, so swollen now that it protrudes obscenely from her slick, puffy folds. He squeezes it, watching the thin skin stretch taut, watching it throb in frantic protest.

He traces the swollen bud with his fingertip, circling slow, barely a touch, just to watch it suffer. It’s obscene how responsive she is, the little nub twitching under his attention, glistening with slick. He presses down harder, rubbing in tight little spirals, the flesh trembling beneath his fingers like a caged animal.

He lets his fingers drag lower, spreading the plush folds wide, so wet, dripping for him, even as her fists clench in the sheets. His other hand strokes her clit lazily, coaxing her higher, watching the way her hips twitch with every circling press.

He scrapes a fingernail slowly along the underside of her clit, savoring the way it quivers. Her folds flutter, her hole clenching around nothing, as if begging for something to fill her.

He indulges her, thrusting two fingers deep into the slick imitation of her pussy, relishing how the tight walls convulse.

He leans in, pressing his tongue flat against the throbbing nub in his hands, lapping at it with slow, wet drags. The way it jerks under the heat of his mouth, god, it’s beautiful. On-screen, her back arches. A broken moan tangles in her throat.

His fingers move, fucking her in deep, lazy pumps, her inner walls clenching around nothing, trying to hold onto something, anything, to anchor against the pleasure.

She rocks into it, chasing his invisible touch, teetering over the edge.

So he pulls away.

Her entire body jerks in protest because she doesn’t get to cum yet.

His fingertips trace the very edges of her clit, never touching where she needs it most, just ghosting over the hypersensitive nerves until her entire body writhes. She claws at the sheets, her thighs twitching open despite herself, her pussy clenching around nothing, her clit begging for friction.

Then, finally, he gives in, but not the way she wants. He presses the flat of his thumb down on the engorged nub, grinding in slow, mind-numbing circles, watching on the screen as her back arches wildly.

He increases the pressure just a fraction, just enough to keep her teetering. Her cunt is dripping, her clit a dark, throbbing bead under his control, her body no longer hers, just a thing, just a wet little hole responding on command.

When her thighs start to shake, when her voice breaks into a sob, he stops, watching the hope fade from her eyes.

He pulls out a fine-tipped vibrator, pressing it directly against the bundle of nerves, dialing it just under the threshold of orgasm.

A keening noise claws up her throat as the pleasure builds and builds, never cresting, never breaking, just holding her there on the edge, her cunt clenching around nothing, desperate for the release she won’t get.

He watches her writhe, soaked in sweat and shame, her body no longer her own.

And through it all, her clit pulses in his grasp, a tiny, twitching heart of suffering and ecstasy.

He can see her chest heaving from her panting breaths, so close to what she wants. And so he stops, pulling the vibrator off, watching her helpless pussy twitch and ache.

She lets out a wail, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes as desperation gnaws a deep ache inside of her.

He watches the screen, half-amused, half-annoyed, as her fingers hesitantly drift between her thighs. She wants to cum and she thinks she can do it herself.

A mistake.

The moment her fingertips brush her swollen clit, his grip tightens on the replica in his hands, his thumb pressing down just enough to make her freeze.

No, no, sweet thing. That’s against the rules.

He gives her clit a harsh flick and watches as a scream rips out of her throat. But that isn’t enough to deter her, because moments after, her fingers are back on her clit, rubbing like a filthy, disobedient whore.

He sucks in an annoyed breath and picks up a thin electric rod. Without hesitating, he presses the tip against her clit and shocks her, the zapping sound ripping through the air.

A sharp, stinging jolt shoots through the tiny bundle of nerves in his palm, and oh, the way it jerks. The way she jerks, a strangled cry tearing from her lips as she yanks her hand away, thighs slamming together as if she can protect herself.

But protection isn’t an option anymore. Not from him.

He lets her pant, lets her shake, lets her think it might be over.

And then, with slow, deliberate cruelty, he pinches the clit between two fingers, holding it still before driving the electric rod against it, letting it fire off several zaps in quick succession.

She screams. The clit in his box convulses, the trapped flesh trembling violently.

He smiles.

“You’ll learn,” he murmurs, flicking the little nub again, hard. She yelps, back arching off the bed.

Her fingers stay far away now, knuckles white as she grips the sheets instead, her body trembling under his unseen control.

Good.

He drags his thumb over the sopping slit in the box, gathering slick before lazily circling the clit again, just enough to tease. Just enough to make her squirm on screen.

She bites her lip, thighs pressing together in futile resistance.

He reaches for the tiny silver clamp and arranged it around her flesh, watching it bite down on her swollen clit, the sensitive tissue protesting with every pulse. Tears well up in her eyes on the screen. She shakes her head, whispering no, no, no, but there is no mercy for her.

He twists the clamp tighter around her tortured clit, delighting as the swollen flesh bulges around the metal teeth, darkening to a lurid purple. Her whole pussy quivers in response, her hole weeping, her inner muscles spasming in confused, helpless pleasure.

He grabs the vibrator again, the toy humming to life against the clamped bud, the frequency so precise it makes her flesh flutter, muscles contracting helplessly. Her back arches off the bed, a broken noise wrenching from her throat as pleasure spikes, sharp, unbearable, inescapable. Her fingers scrabble at the sheets, hips bucking in stuttering little jerks as the toy torments the hypersensitive nerve cluster.

Drool slicks her lower lip as she pants, eyes unfocused. He watches with satisfaction as her cunt pulses around nothing, slickness dripping from her in obscene rivulets. The vibrator buzzes harder, and a broken sob tears from her, sounds of desperation spilling out of her mouth.

He adjusts the clamp a fraction tighter, then twists it just to hear her scream. The vibrator rolls slow, merciless circles, pinning her clit ruthlessly. Every nerve in her body is lit up, pleasure crackling through her in waves that crest but never break. She is no longer a woman, just a thing shaking apart between his fingers, reduced to quivering flesh and involuntary spasms.

Every pulse of the vibrator sends shockwaves through her, stomach clenching, toes curling, breath coming in jagged little gasps. But he keeps it steady, never increasing the intensity, never allowing her the relief of building toward release.

Just edging. Just an endless, torturous plateau, where she can feel the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter inside her but never tipping over.

"P-Please—" she whimpers, her voice thin and broken, nails digging into her own thighs as if that could ground her.

He tsks, amused. As if she has any right to beg.

With deliberate cruelty, he turns the vibrator up, just one notch.

The effect is immediate. Her stomach muscles quiver violently, her legs splaying wider in helpless invitation, her mouth dropping open in a soundless scream. The clamp keeps her clit swollen and aching, the vibrator sending sharp, concentrated pulses straight into the overstimulated nerve bundle.

And still, she doesn’t cum.

Because he won’t let her.

Not until he decides she’s suffered enough.

—

The moment finally comes, her body, strained to its absolute limit, teetering on the razor’s edge of orgasm. He can feel it in the way her clit pulses in the box, a desperate, throbbing little heartbeat between his fingers. He has denied her all night, teased her, shocked her, clamped her, ruined her, but now, at last, he will let her break.

He pulls the clamp off cruelly, watching her clit swell as blood comes rushing back, flooding her already raw nerves with new torment. Her clit trembles, swollen so fat it sticks out from between her lips, begging for mercy. He doesn’t give her a chance to recover before he presses the vibrating toy directly onto her swollen clit, cranked to the highest setting.

On screen, her entire body snaps taut, a silent scream stretching her lips wide.

"That’s it," he murmurs, watching her cunt flutter around nothing, soaking the sheets beneath her. "Cum for me."

And she does.

Hard.

Her back arches violently, her thighs locking around the empty air as her orgasm rips through her. The clit in his hands convulses, pussy spilling slick in thick pulses under his touch. He grins, keeping the vibrator pressed firm, not letting up, determined to wring every last ounce of pleasure from her until it hurts.

She thrashes, her moans turning hoarse, painfully overstimulated, but he doesn’t stop.

He laughs, low and dark.

"You think you're done?" His fingers dig into her folds, spreading them open, exposing her glistening, twitching hole to the unrelenting buzz of the vibrator. "I’m just getting started."

Another orgasm wrenches out of her, messy and uncontrollable, her cunt contracting in helpless spasms as tears streak down her face.

Her legs jerk on the screen, thighs slick with sweat and arousal, heels digging into the mattress as if she could escape the pleasure eating her alive. But she can't. Every pulse of the toy sends electric jolts straight through her clit, her pussy fluttering around empty air, dripping onto the sheets beneath her.

He smirks, circling the vibrating tip harder against the swollen bud, watching the way her stomach muscles clench, another orgasm building whether she wants it or not.

Then, with deliberate cruelty, he pulls out a vibrating dildo and presses it straight into the tight, dripping hole in the box.

Her scream splits the air, her spine bowing off the bed, fingers clawing at nothing as the thick intrusion fills her in the exact spot designed to destroy her. The moment he turns it on, her entire body bucks like a live wire, the deep, rumbling vibrations rocking through her core, pressing mercilessly against the swollen inner wall of her cunt.

The clit vibrator doesn’t stop, buzzing against her abused nub while the deeper toy punishes her g-spot, sending shocks of sensation radiating through her lower belly.

She wails, thighs slamming together in a desperate, futile attempt to stop the pleasure, but it’s impossible, her hips twitch in tiny, involuntary thrusts, her cunt clamping down around the thick vibrator like it’s trying to milk it.

Her clit jumps under the relentless onslaught, pulsing in time with the brutal vibrations, the dark, swollen flesh quivering violently under his treatment. The dildo shifts inside her, the angle just right to send another bone-deep spasm tearing through her, her back arching so sharply it looks like she’ll snap.

He grinds the vibrator deeper, angling it so the thick, ribbed tip digs ruthlessly into the spongy spot inside her, the pressure unbearable. Every thrum of the toy sends gushes of slick spilling from her hole, her pussy clenching in erratic, overstimulated spasms, not an orgasm, not anymore, just her body breaking from the relentless pleasure.

Her clit is engorged, purpling from the abuse, twitching against the buzzing toy like a dying thing, her entire pussy quivering in time with it.

And still, he doesn’t stop.

He increases the speed, the dildo drilling into her sensitive walls, the clit toy vibrating so fast it blurs, her entire body convulsing like a puppet yanked on its strings.

Another scream rips out of her, her hips jacking up off the bed, her cunt flooding the sheets as the forced pleasure tears another orgasm out of her, violent and uncontrollable. Her muscles lock, her fists slamming into the mattress as she cums, hard, messy, shameless, her hole pulsing around the vibrator, her clit throbbing in his grip like a second heartbeat.

But it’s not a release.

It’s torture.

Her eyes roll back, her moans turning to sobs as her body betrays her, cumming again, and again, her overstimulated nerves alight with agony and ecstasy.

She is nothing now.

Just a wet, trembling hole, a toy, a broken thing locked inside a box, bleeding pleasure at his command.

And he laughs, pressing down harder, watching her break.

Because she’s not allowed to stop.

Why It's Better

Some of you have been cumming far too much. Whenever the mood strikes, you touch yourself, you finish, and it's over. A few seconds of pleasure and then nothing. You’re empty. Already forgetting what it felt like.

Edging is different.

When you edge, the arousal doesn't disappear. Each edge layers on top of the last. The pleasure gets deeper, more intense, more consuming. After a few edges, you'll be so sensitive that the slightest touch will make you gasp. After a few more, you'll be shaking, leaking, barely able to form coherent thoughts.

Edges linger. They keep you warm and wet and wanting for days. Months, if you're disciplined. You’ll walk around with a constant ache between your legs, a secret you're carrying, a reminder of what you're denying yourself.

And when you finally do cum... when you've earned it or been given permission. It's not just a few seconds of mediocre release. It's the kind of orgasm that leaves you sobbing.

And that's not even the biggest reason it's better.

The real reason is what it teaches you. That pleasure isn't yours to take whenever you want it. That anticipation is sweeter than satisfaction. That discipline feels better than indulgence. That you like yourself more when you're denied.

You learn to associate obedience with pleasure. You train yourself to get wet from being told no.

That's why it's better. It conditions you.

How to Do It

Let's practice. Right now. While you're reading this.

Get comfortable. Somewhere private. Take off whatever's in the way and push it aside. We need easy access.

Now start slow. Don't rush. Run your fingers over your inner thighs, your stomach, everywhere except where you actually want to be touched. Tease yourself. Make yourself wait for it.

Feel how your body responds. The way your hips shift, trying to guide your hand where it wants to go. The way your breathing changes. You're already getting wet. Just from anticipation. Just from being told what to do.

Now touch yourself. Lightly. Barely there. Circle your clit slowly, softly, not enough pressure to do anything but frustrate you. Feel how swollen you already are. How sensitive. How badly you want more.

Give yourself more. A little more pressure. Find the rhythm that works for you, the one that makes your thighs tense. Let the pleasure build. Let it climb.

You're getting close now. I can tell. Your thoughts are getting fuzzy. Your hips are moving on their own. Everything is narrowing down to that single point of contact, that desperate need to crest.

Stop

Take your hand away. Right now.

Feel the way your body protests. The ache of being denied. The almost painful throb between your legs, begging you to finish what you started.

That's the edge. That's what you're chasing.

Sit with it. Let the wave recede. It takes a minute or two. Your heart will slow. The desperation will fade to a manageable simmer. You'll still be turned on, still be wet, but you won't be right on the brink anymore.

Good. Now do it again.

Build yourself back up. Take yourself to the edge. And stop.

Again. And again. And again.

Each time, you'll get more sensitive. Each time, stopping will be harder, and you'll understand a little better why this is worth it. Why denial is sweeter than the release. Why good sluts edge instead of cumming whenever they want.

How Many?

As many as you can stand. Then one more.

If you're new to this, start with three. Build yourself up, stop, let it fade, repeat. Three edges and then you're done for the night. No orgasm. You go to sleep wet.

Tomorrow, do it again. And the next day. See how many days you can last before you're begging for it to end.

It's going to be hard, but eventually the denial becomes the reward. You'll find yourself craving that desperate, dripping, mindless state more than you ever craved orgasms.