Blissful Torment

Samantha was always on the lookout for great porn. Like most people, she had started with pictures and movies, but soon discovered stories and audio files. She liked to listen to instructions and play along. Teasing, caressing, pinching or even denying herself when told. She had a hard rule that she would not disobey a direct order, even if it was given by an anonymous voice.

She was idly clicking through some hypnosis audios, searching for a good hook, story or voice. She knew that hypnosis only works if you want to play along, but because she was incredibly eager to do so they got her off unlike anything else. Or sometimes did not, as there was an unsurprising number of denial stuff which she both loved and loathed, especially if she stumbled over a few in a row. Soon, she found something interesting. It promised to give her sexy dreams. Never one to pass on a wet dream, she got herself comfortable and was soon deeply in trance, murmuring along and playing with herself.

The author promised to take all her arousal, and delay it until she was fast asleep, and then make her climax hard. All she had to do was touch and tease herself, and then stop when she was getting too close. He explicitly forbade her any and all other orgasms. If it would not work, she was to repeat the audio every evening until it did.

When she woke from her trance, she felt nearly painfully aroused, and gave her vibe on the bedside table a longing look. But orders were orders. She sighed, and put the lights out and after some difficulty fell asleep, anxiously awaiting her promised wet dream.

In the morning she opened her eyes, but could not remember any sexual dreams. Grumbling, she slipped a finger between her legs, and quickly confirmed it: She was still frustratingly horny. She spent part of her Saturday on more porn (a very good/bad idea) and just general adult life: Buying groceries (giving the cucumbers dirty looks), paying bills (reading a number of $70 made her think of a slightly smaller number that she really wanted right now), and cleaning her flat (wistfully thinking of inviting a stranger over for a good fuck).

In the evening, she listened to the same audio file again, teasing her clit until she was about to burst,  even tasting herself off her fingers in the hopes it would remind her of actual sex. Then she went to bed , but tossed and turned for a solid hour, heat between her legs keeping her awake, before finally slumbering off.

The next day she woke up in complete frustration. No dream! Again! Should she break her rule? Grab that pink plastic paramour and go to town on her swollen nub? No! It was unacceptable. She would not violate her rule after just two nights!

Sunday did not want to pass. Outside was rainy and ugly, her friends were busy and every time she browsed the internet she kept ending up with a hand down her panties. She was both dreading and looking forward to her edging session. She even skipped coffee and went to the gym so she would be nice and tired as soon as possible. In the evening she listened to the audio once more, playing along, already expecting what to do when. She had to take a few breaks as she was way too close to climax multiple times.

Then she lied back and prayed that this night would finally bring her release.

She found herself in a dungeon, voices and shadows everywhere around herself, her mouth gagged, her ass plugged, her arms tied to the frame, unable to move, unable even to whimper, as people slipped between her legs to lick her clit or to fuck her pussy, over and over. They all cackled at her inability to orgasm. Finally, a familiar person appeared, spearing her desperate cunt with his cock, and said, "You can cum now." - she immediately recognized the voice from the audio file.

She woke in a puddle of her own juices, breathing heavily, the orgasm still wracking through her body, goosebumps everywhere. In the dream she had passed out from how intense it was (even though that made little sense as passing out while sleeping was definitely impossible), and she still felt amazing, though she wanted more. She snatched the vibe, and finally put it to good use on her still swollen and sensitive clit. It took her mere moments before she felt the orgasm loom. She relaxed back into her (slightly damp) cushions and focused on the sensations. Her brow furrowed when she found it difficult to get past the edge. She kept reaching it, but then immediately dipped down again, as if something was preventing her from orgasm. Her alarm interrupted her completely, and annoyed she gave up and got dressed, promising herself to have another orgasm after work.

When she came home from later that day, she all but jumped on her toy chest, grabbed a nice dildo and a different vibe, put on some of her favourite hardcore porn and starting fucking herself still in her work dress. If anything, wearing business attire only made it better, and she enjoyed the feeling of slutting it up, even if only for herself.

After half an hour, she was trembling and sweating and regretted not changing into something more comfortable. She had not cum. Just like in the morning, she kept mentally slipping just at the edge. The orgasm just kept eluding her in the most baffling way possible. She was *so* close.

While eating dinner she wondered if she should try the audio once more, and when she was licking her ice cream spoon she had already decided: She was nearly as horny as before, and another wet dream would be splendid. Might as well.

This time she did not have to take any breaks. No matter how much she teased herself, she could not cum. It was both maddening and delighting, being able to push her body as intensely as possible, but not getting release. When the audio ended, she immediately restarted it, and tortured herself for another full hour.

Exhausted, she fell asleep, a smile on her face. She knew she was ready. Soon, her mind drifted to another dream, one of her being bent over and pounded from behind by giant dicks, her mouth stuffed with a monstercock. For a long time the pleasure just kept building, her body reacting the same way in the dream as in reality, until she was at the verge of tears, muscles clenched and trembling.

When she felt his hands on her hips, she cried out in anticipation. He'd make her cum again. The magical voice from the audio. His cock slid into her, and she felt the tremors of orgasms approach.

"You can have an orgasm in three nights. Now wake up," he said, amused sadism swinging in his voice.

Her eyes flew open, and she felt her cunt clench hard around nothing. The orgasm was there, but by the time she had a hand on her clit, it had already slithered away from her, leaving her quivering and depressed with just a horrific ruin. She remembered the order all too well. It had seemed much more real than a normal dream. She swallowed drily.

From this day onward, she was unable to orgasm normally. The only way for her to cum was to dream it, and only if the voice allowed her to. Sometimes he let her. Sometimes he denied her. Sometimes he did not even show up. Some nights were hours of brutal sexual torture, some nights were event-less. She was not sure which ones she hated more.

Soon she learned that the only way to get a proper orgasm was to make the voice happy. He kept his promises. She just had to do exactly as he wanted. When she faltered, a couple ruins would quickly make her compliant.

It did not take long for her to crave him. 

Blissful Torment, September 2019