Thanks to Kayla Lords for the chance to post some steamy, masturbation-inducing excerpts to enjoy. This is from my newly-released ebook
A Captive of Fear and Desire
(Please be aware that this book has a theme of non-consent running through it)
Laura knew theoretically what a Sybian did, but when Master flicked the remote and a churning rubber bump began rotating and vibrating under her clit, she knew she was in trouble. Then he activated the dildos and she was immediately overwhelmed with sensations of pumping and twisting that made a mockery of her resolve to stay quiet.
Almost immediately, a guttural moan was torn from her mouth. She’d never felt so much sensation between her legs all at once. It overloaded her mind, grabbed her core, and made her stomach clench. Wrapped around it all was a sensation of being so stretched from the inside that every nerve ending was firing rapid signals.
Her head dropped and she began panting and moaning, a rhythmic moan as regular as breathing.
The room faded—the men faded—her situation faded—and all that was left was the churning, rising ocean inside that she was powerless to stop. The vibrations, the twisting, the pumping—they became her whole existence. Without warning, an orgasm rose up from her depths, crashing over her. She screamed as she rode it all the way through, the machine continuing its assault without cease and prolonging the orgasm way beyond pleasure.
Now she twisted and writhed, unable to escape the relentless sensations on her over-sensitive clit. She begged to stop—she pleaded to stop—but they ignored her and their existence faded out again as the arousal turned from unbearable to desperate once more. She struggled furiously to escape but was so impaled that all her struggling served only to rub her poor tortured clit even harder on the vibrating pad.
“Please!” she pleaded, “please stop it! I can’t take it anymore! Just for a minute, please! Oh, God!”
She shrieked as she suddenly hurtled up and over the edge of the cliff again. The machine was an indifferent beast and kept rubbing and pumping and twisting, never pausing to let her catch her breath.
The people and the place, and time itself, ceased to exist as the torment continued, her body unable to stop heaving and struggling, her cries morphing into sobs as she endured another, and another. She wasn’t sure how many orgasms she’d had when the machine finally stopped moving. She was slumped forward as much as her shackled arms would allow, unable to raise her head, her mouth dry, and her throat sore.
She was vaguely aware of Master at her side, wiping her face with a cool cloth and offering her a drink of water. She drank greedily. After a few minutes, she managed to sit up, her eyes still downcast, refusing to look up at anyone or anything. She was utterly spent, and utterly defeated.
“Please let me down, Master,” she finally whispered.
“We’re not done yet.”
“No!” she sobbed, “I can’t do any more! Please, please, I’ll do whatever you want, just please let me down.”
“Shhh…” he brushed her cheek with his hand. “No more orgasms.”
“Oh, God, thank you!” She was absurdly grateful to him.
“But we’ve only just begun.”
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Thanks to Kayla Lords – Masturbation Monday
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