Bondage And Electronic Orgasm Denial
In the special prison, judicial procedures and punishments are not the usual ones we expect:
Ken was already binding her ankles to hoops set near the foot of the wall.
“I’m not the first woman you’ve done this to, am I?” she whispered, as he raised her hands above her head and used the rope round his waist to tie her wrists to a hoop high above her.
“God no, sweetheart. There’s dozens have begged for mercy in this very spot during the past few years.”
Fern shuddered. They were about to use some hellish device that would make her plead for forgiveness, yet there was no one she could tell.
“Ready, angel?”
Fern stared dumbly at the man. She’d never be ready.
“Cat got your tongue?” he said, kneeling to strap something around her naked waist.
With her arms tied high above her head and her legs stretched out in a taut A-line, Fern’s movements were limited. Desperate to see what Ken was doing, she craned her head.
She could see a broad brown leather band shackled to her waist. A free-swinging pouch on more slender straps seemed to be attached to it. As she strained, Ken pulled the thin straps under her pubic patch and brought them up behind, where he attached them to the band at the back. Now the pouch was held tightly over her Venusian mound and labial leaves and hood-hidden clitoris.
Ken stood back to review his handiwork. “Very nice,” he said. “Very effective indeed.”
“What are you going to do to me?” Fern croaked.
“I’m about to switch on this little machine. It’ll vibrate exquisitely through your pretty pubes. You’ll writhe and buck like crazy. Just as you’re about to orgasm, the appliance will stop.”
“How will it know?” Fern queried.
“It’s programmed to detect the electrical skin changes that show climax is near. It also reacts to your body heat.” He smiled mockingly. “This little beauty is extremely sensitive.”
Fern feared her clit was too. As she stared, blushing, at the occupants of the trestle tables, Ken flicked on a switch near one of the ankle hoops. Was this thing also remote controlled? They had computer chips nowadays, so anything was possible. The vibrations thrilled through her labia, the familiar expanding excitement started in her lower belly, and Fern gave up on technological thought.
What a fiendishly effective machine! Its pulsations were light yet focused. As her arousal built rapidly, Fern closed her eyes and breathed fast and hard.“You can’t see us but we can still see you,” Ken taunted. “See the wetness on your thighs, see your pussy trying to rub against the deferred gratifier.”
“See that your nipples are begging for a sucking,” shouted one of the guys.
All Fern could think about was the increasing pleasure above her labial lips. She groaned, uttering sounds more animal than human. Her voice always went deep and staccato as she was about to come. She felt the pre-orgasmic nearly-there signal in her brain, and pushed against the source of satisfaction.
It promptly stopped.
For a moment Fern kept moving her hips despite the taut harsh pull of her bonds, then she opened her eyes: “Why … ?” she gasped.
Ken grinned: “You were getting too excited, darling.”
“But I need to …”
“No, you want to come, but the judge says you’ve got to be kept on the edge for an hour.”
An hour was an achingly long time to be deprived when you were as swollen-sexed as she was. Fern stared dully at the nonchalant Ken. “I don’t think I can take it,” she said miserably.
“Dearest,” the guard crooned, “you don’t have an option. The machine will take you to the limit then automatically stop every time.”
“How do you know when it’s safe to switch it on again?” Fern asked, feeling her desire receding slowly.
“It knows itself, does a sort of vaginal thermometer test.” He smiled. “You should hear some of those girlies groaning when it restarts its fiendish buzzing. Their hot little pussies can hardly bear another vibrating tease.”
“And no one has ever come before the machine has stopped?” Fern queried.
“No, sweetheart. Not ever.” Ken’s eyes brightened with power or amusement. “Gratification is always deferred.”
Fern stood, whimpering with loss as the main rush of distended desire flowed away from her clitoris. I’ll just think about non-sexual things next time, she promised herself. I can outwit this. Then the hellish machine switched itself on again and the hot vaginal hunger started anew, then stopped, then started again.
When she was reduced to sobbing with unquenched lust, the judge walked in. He held a large silver stopwatch. “Only another five minutes of squirming in this position, young lady, then we go back to court for the second part of your trial…”
From Serving Time by Sarah Veitch.
Elsewhere on Bondage Blog:
Of course, if she is on trial for nymphomania, her sessions with the machine are bound to have her look the part of a thoroughly guilty person in the eyes of the jury.