AlwaysArousedGirl

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My mistake, I suppose, was in handing off the controls to a man I barely knew. A man with whom I’d exchanged no more than a few passing pleasantries. A man who, as it turned out, possessed just a hint of a sadistic streak.

We were in a room populated with a few other friends, all of whom were engrossed in their own pursuits of pleasure. I was so pent up with nine days’ worth of self-denied orgasms that I could not have cared any less who was watching. Or not watching.

One strap of my chemise had already broken; I noticed this as I straddled the machine and adjusted its position so that I could rest my arms on a bed.

As I tried ineffectually I tried to cover my exposed breast, a man nabbed the controls. I thought he’d be nice. I’d made it more than clear that I needed orgasms almost more than air. He toyed with the various knobs and switches as I got comfortable. “Here’s the highest setting,” I pointed out to him. “That’s what I need. You don’t even have to bother with the variable settings. Just the highest.”

“I knew that playing with remote control cars all those years would come in handy some day,” he said, completely ignoring my instructions. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.”

And he did. He slowly dialed up the controls until I was moaning and slowly circling my cunt on the toy. At some point I heard a soft pop as my chemise’s other strap broke free.

The silky bodice slipped down with a hiss. I tried to clutch it back to my chest as the people who were now watching laughed. “Why are you still trying to cover up?” someone asked. I shook my head and focused on my pussy.

And here’s where the real torture began. He’d let me come a little by slowly dialing up the controls, but as soon as it started feeling really good, he’d back down the speed. People were watching now, which I seem to like way more than I ever thought I would.

I begged him, “Please let me come,” as I ground down on the toy’s head. Every time I got close to a big orgasm, the devil would lower the controls until the feeling was no more than an exquisitely low hum in my pussy.

There’s no way I ever could have had the self-control to give myself that kind of drawn-out torturous pleasure. I kept begging him for more. I bent my head and took his cock into my mouth, hoping he’d be distracted enough to give me what I wanted. I didn’t even protest when he yanked my hand away from by poor broken bodice and let the fabric slide down me, exposing my breasts.

A female friend knelt next to me and wove her fingers through my hair. She urged me to come while pinching my nipples with her other hand. “Look at her face,” someone else said, and through the haze of a huge and imminent orgasm, I saw everyone watching me grind on the machine.

And still he wouldn’t let me have enough. It must have been quite a sight: A bodice-clutching woman grinding herself onto a toy, cursing the man who was putting her through such torment, hands splayed on the sheets, eyes pleading for release.

Lightning shot out of my nipples and pussy as I came. I’m surprised it didn’t strike down the others in the room.

I dismounted on trembling legs and collapsed with my head in a nearby lap. Someone handed me a cold drink. My friend gently brushed back my sweaty hair with her fingers.

Apparently my garment was hitched high up on my thigh. “She’s got a pretty pussy; did you see?” someone asked. The words floated above my orgasm-befuddled head.

“Let me see,” another voice answered.

“Stop talking about my pussy!” I mumbled, my head still buried on my friend’s thigh. “Don’t even think about my pussy!”

“You can tell when we’re thinking about your pussy?” someone else asked.

“Yes. You are thinking about it right now. So stop it!”

But it was too late. The folks curious about my pussy had wandered over; they lifted my limp top leg and spread me wide for the room to see. “It is a pretty pussy, just the way I like them.” The man’s voice drifted peacefully into and out of my brain.

I moaned at the cool air and the exposure. They lowered my leg and covered up my bottom. Gradually the other onlookers wandered off until I was left safe in the care of a few close friends.

They slowly brought me back to awareness, ran me through the shower (with a male friend for help and company) and guided me through the redressing process.

Then they accompanied me back to the main room for even more fun.