So many orgasms—and we haven't even gotten to the main course yet.
There are fragments of coherence scattered through my memories.
I walk in and the Bug Board is out, pillows in the right places, the strap and the Magic Wand are lying on the bed, and he is connecting up a vaginal insert to the Erostek. He says it will be a nice, long, slow session. I think "Oh my god, this is going to be fucking intense. What am I in for?"
I am strapped tightly onto the Bug Board. "Juicy?" he asks. "No, all freshly washed." A finger inside to test: I'm still a bit juicy. Fingering me just so, he knows I will ripen quickly. Our favourite insert is soon in my cunt, and he sets it so the sensation peaks moderately high. "I'll just let you simmer for a while," he says, and walks out of the room. Well, what is a girl to do?
When he comes back he starts getting a few toys out of the dresser. I see him pick up the Wartenburg Wheel, and I try not to react and then relax as he puts it down again. He comes to sit beside me, his hands go to my nipple, and there is a twang. Where the hell did that rubber band come from? I freeze in terror at the possibility of it being used on my clit. "Maybe later," he says.
Then the Magic Wand. Let's not mess around here, it goes straight onto my clit on ‘High'. Bam! After yesterday's orgasm denial, he has me ready for the abrupt stop. He doesn't disappoint. He starts again. I tell him I know what he is up to, that he will just keep stopping. The next thing I am aware of is his hand caressing my face after a slew of orgasms has rocked me. "That was ten orgasms." How long did it take? About ten minutes?
He picks up the strap. "You said you wanted this." He is right. I did. And I do. And I don't. It is fucking my head; that thing can hurt so bad. I have to really focus to realise that he is only lightly slapping my pussy with it. The first few strokes don't really hurt, but they fuck with my head so well. It is the relentlessness that gets to me. How long is he going to do this for? It is going to build and build and build… Stay with it. Feel it. It's not really hurting, it's just fucking my head. All of a sudden the intensity steps up. Just a bit, but it threatens to overwhelm me. Fear begins to grab me. Then he stops.
He begins flicking my clit with his finger. I squeal, move, squirm, until I can't any more. Relentless flicking until my cries become whimpers.
The beauty of the Erostek is that it is simple to operate. The evilness of the Erostek is that it is simple to operate. A twist of the dials brings up the intensity. He has now created a higher platform of sensation, to push me further. The ‘Low' setting of the Magic Wand throbs into me. Is he being nice? Umm, no. This mode actually reaches deeper in.
He says he is going to take it slow, and make me come and come and come. How can I resist? Because I am a stubborn little shit. Because I can. Eventually it makes no difference. He switches to ‘High', and brings on the next orgasm, and the next, and the next. Sometimes I hate him, and swear at him, and if I wasn't restrained I would be going after him. Other times all I can do is be. Some orgasms mute me; others make me scream. They come in groups.
Orgasms, I don't know how many. I manage to call out the beginning of each so he can count them. He removes the Magic Wand when the emotional peak is looming. The sensation eases. I smile and laugh. Then the emotional wave washes over me. I cry. I tell him I'm OK, but I just have to cry. He holds me.
He wants more. I just don't have it to give. He decides it is there to take. He presses the Magic Wand right onto my clit, harder than before. The sensation nails me. For a few seconds it is on the other side of pleasure. Then the orgasm hits with its own version of pain. Three times it washes over me.
"That was thirty one orgasms," he says.
As I twitch and spasm with aftershocks I can feel my buttocks clenching slickly in the puddle of sweat. He releases me and helps me up, and I look back to see my ass printed perfectly in sweat. It looks rather cool. There is a small respite, but the sexual tension is still high. I walk unsteadily with him to the bedroom, and then we fuck.
I am on top, but he is fucking my well lubricated and very tender cunt. He grips my hair, my body, my throat, and he pulls me down onto his cock. Lovingly, he fucks me roughly. I imagine that after so many orgasms, especially with sensations like that, that I would be orgasmed out. I am wrong. More orgasms, this time from deep fucking. The emotional ones I have come to know from sex with James – uterine orgasms.
His appetite for flesh moves to the top of my shoulder. He fastens there, and bites. And bites. And bites, until his jaw quivers with the effort. I was fragmented before, but after that I am completely gone. No more verbosity in my head. There are words passing through, but none that I am able to utter or remember.
Previously he has trod carefully when we hit my emotional splatter of tears. Today he pushes more. He fucks me even harder after I hit those deeply emotional orgasms. I flail wordlessly. I am a being of sensation and response. There is a sense of him being in me: not just physically, but emotionally, mentally.
"Good girl," he says, "Very good girl." Other praise registers, and holds me close when I am such a mass of fragility. Does he realise how important that is? His appreciation of my openness brings me close to him, makes me burst with pride and love. For me emotional intimacy often requires such intensity and rawness. To let go to this level takes something extraordinary.
We have often hit the point where I lose the ability to speak. Before, I have at least been able to think in words. Today there isn't even that. It is a different kind of non-verbal. It is a space of sensory experience, but after the fact. My head is going back over the experience, and my body is responding. I am twitching as I lie there.
"I love you." My first words when I can speak again.
Republished with permission from SapioSlut. Want to see your true tale of lust on Fleshbot? Contact us. Photo courtesy of Hogtied.com.