by J Beresford
“I think something’s been…,” the petite girl begins, as the room starts to spin, quickly succumbing to a deep sleep beyond her control.
**************************************************
Jonathan slowly comes around, the sound of voices seeming so distant, trickling into his consciousness.
“Subjects: one male, one female. Both are in their late twenties. No sexual activity with a partner noted within a 3 month period.”
Jonathan’s senses start to return and instinctively he tries to rub his eyes against the light, but discovers he cannot move. The young man’s wrists are cuffed above his head! When he tries to twist his body he finds his ankles are also locked in place, leaving him standing upright with a strap around his mid-section. The solid feeling against his back tells him that he has been strapped upright to some kind of table. He feels bare, with only the familiar tightness of white boxer briefs against his skin, but the cosy heat filling the small, padded, brightly lit room is comfortable. Eyes now adjusted, the outline of numerous black monitor screens fills his vision. They are elevated in front of Jonathan on their stands, stark against the white padding of the otherwise bare room.
Jonathan’s throat starts to tighten, struggling to swallow or catch his breath as his fears go into overdrive, until suddenly the screens click on all at once. A single image materializes on them, and it makes Jonathan gasp.
His thoughts of Kyra quickly flood back as his memory restores itself: sitting alone with her, getting to know a little about one another. The water, it must have been, he thinks to himself. However, never could he have comprehended that he would be seeing her like this: restrained spread eagled on a table as he is, in a room just like his, but positioned lying down. Every screen was showing a different angle of her, though it was the centre screen his eyes were glued to, showing in profile the way her thin, fragile body naturally arched on the table. He could see her chest rising and falling quickly as she lay in wait, blindfolded and unable to see what looked like solar panels above her.
“Gorgeous, isn’t she?” comes a familiar female voice from behind which causes him to jump. Before he can speak, she continues. “You are both perfectly safe here. You see, we have our own particular ways of testing massage oils.” As she spoke, he recognized the sultry tone of that bespectacled, flirty and distractingly sexy examiner. Jonathan’s head was spinning in a way that had nothing to do with the drugged water.
“Now, if you look above her,” continued the woman. “Those screens are for measuring her sexual responses. You will notice the same array in front of you. In short, the readouts let us know just when someone is about to climax, whether or not they try to hide it.”
“What are - ?” Jonathan begins before being cut short by her.
“Hush now, and watch!” she says as she steps forward to stand beside him. When he turns his head to see her, that buxom figure standing out in that tight white researcher’s jacket, she gestures to the screen her own eyes are locked on. Jonathan does as he is told.
They both watch, transfixed by the young girl on screen, writhing and calling out for help, for some kind of response. Her modesty preserved only by thin white lingerie. The shape of her mound outlined under the delicate fabric, as well as the low cut of the bra that only just conceals her nipples, is riveting. The little red bow at the top of her panties and the red trace along the bra straps completes this picture of sheer eroticism, leaving Jonathan to chide himself. He shouldn’t be feeling so aroused under these circumstances.
“J-Jasmine, right? Your name was Jasmine!” Jonathan addresses the researcher standing next to him.
She finally turns to him with a smile that would have him ready to pounce on her under different circumstances, something he thinks she must be all too aware of.
“That’s right Jonathan, Why don’t you enjoy this, while I help you feel a little more comfortable?”
Her words are as soft as her touch, as those long fingers press against his chest; standing in front of him, Jasmine slowly drops to her knees, drifting her hands down his torso, leaving him to focus on the screens.
She kisses down his body to his naval lightly while addressing him.
“You are both our subjects now,” she purrs. “We will let you go, of course, after we have had our fun with you. Things will be much more enjoyable if you simply relax and go along for the ride. You will both have a lot of fun,” she assures. Her caresses drift to his hips, and she begins kissing lightly above his waist line.
Jonathan stays silent, watching a dark haired male approach Kyra, introducing himself as Terrence.
“Don’t worry; she is in the same position as you, though it can take a little longer for females to settle into the scenario,” Jasmine’s fingers trace across the elastic of his boxers, admiring the bulge held tightly in the soft underwear.
He focuses on the screen, watching as the male begins tracing a single fingertip down the centre of Kyra’s body, from her neck, slowly down her cleavage, down past the hem of her panties and over her soft mound. The last part makes her try to twist away, but the strap over her waist keeps her in place, letting him begin all over again at a cruelly methodical pace.
Seeing her straining against the cuffs and begging to the tormenter she cannot see to let her go, sends a feeling through Jonathan that he cannot explain. So often he’d watch such predicaments online; but to be involved in something like this, for it to be a reality, was beyond his comprehension.
“Enjoying watching her?” Jasmine asks quietly before kissing down his underwear, pressing her lips along the sides of that bulging manhood.
He struggles to keep his concentration, but does not respond, focusing on Kyra writhing as she is being massaged more thoroughly by the man, palms pressing against all the exposed areas of skin, of which there are many. Terrence continues to console Kyra; his touches are like that of a lover, so tender and delicate. Jonathan listens to the ensuing conversation, finding himself entranced by Kyra’s sharp little intakes of breath between every word. While she may be telling him to stop this, that it is illegal, that they can’t get away with doing this, Jonathan can almost hear the battle raging between the girl’s mind and body.
Only the long, lingering kiss which Jasmine suddenly places to his bulging manhood against the confines of those boxer briefs can shift his attention from the screen. When she pulls her head back and makes to stand, he realises just how desperately he wants her to do so much more to him. His own mental battle prevents him from voicing it.
“I think you are coping well enough. Let me go and help your pretty friend in there relax a little more,” she says before leaving Jonathan alone in the room to continue watching Kyra’s massage.
Jasmine suddenly enters the room on Jonathan’s screen, her fingertips eagerly joining Terrence’s. Kyra gasps, “Who is that?” at the new touch, but does not receive an answer.
Their four hands work in unison, gliding across each side of the girl’s body, making her writhe more and more. Her protests and pleas begin to wane by the minute, giving way to deeper breaths which beckon Jonathan to jump through the screen and take her, luring his eager manhood to strain ever helplessly against those tight fabric confines.
“Mmmmm, okay. Okay …. What do - what do you want?” Kyra raggedly asks once her pelvis begins to rock in a slow rhythm of need.
“Tell us where you want us to touch,” replies Jasmine in a tone that makes Jonathan want nothing more than to be in that room with them, tormenting the helpless girl.
Her reply does not come instantly: instead, it is coaxed out of her by fingertips trailing painfully close to her most intimate places. They curl around the base of her cupped breasts but do not squeeze, merely applying the faintest pressure, making the girl raise her chest as best she can for more but to no avail. Terrence’s fingers slide along her inner thighs, his fingers brushing so painfully close to those tight panties, her body betraying her with a little patch of wetness. Even Jonathan feels her fru
stration through the screen.
Finally she gives in. “Please touch me a little more,” Kyra whispers.
The hands pull away instantly; wordlessly the pair exit, leaving Kyra to scream out after them. While she is calling out for them to let her go, Jonathan knows full well that she wants nothing more than for them to give her body much more attention. The very thought sends a surge of desire through him, making him want nothing more than to free his hands and masturbate to the view of the writhing girl before him.
Neither Jonathan nor Kyra sense the gas circulating the room, odourless and invisible, it affects them both almost instantaneously, sending them into the gentle arms of a deep sleep.
**************************************************
Kyra wakes as if wrenched from a cool stream, instantly hit by a sense of heat and urgency, like being awoken amidst a wave of oncoming traffic. Light strokes against her skin alert her body before her eyes can even adjust. Figures stand around her, each with brushes in hand, gliding the soft tips up and down across every inch of her not covered by the new lingerie. She has been tended to during her sleep, cleaned and changed into pink lingerie that hugs her intimate frame tightly. The thin material has a slight flowery pattern etched along the light pink fabric, and clings tight like a second skin.
She is standing, restrained as before, spread eagled, though mercifully not blindfolded. TV monitors stand in front of her, and the image on them sends a pulse of desire through her. The man she remembers she had been speaking to before, Jonathan, was standing the same as her in an identical room. He is completely naked and also not alone; two women are servicing him, though his sudden gasps indicate that he too had only recently awoken. The moment Kyra’s gaze fell upon his throbbing manhood, the pulse of desire sharpens to a surge, yet the brush strokes did not change pace.
Kyra realises that it is Terrence knelt between her open legs and administering brush strokes up and down her inner thighs. He isn’t the only one, though he is the only one familiar, yet before she can say a word, he speaks first.
“Relax again, my dear Kyra, and enjoy Jonathan being worked by my lovely assistant and colleague. Jasmine has been waiting patiently for this chance to take good care of him. Just watch the way she teases him, imagine it were you. Now that you are both willing to climax, our machines can truly gauge your pleasure.”
With that, Kyra noted the machines on screen above Jonathan, as they were with her, humming gently in the warm room, reading her every sensation. There must have been 5 men teasing her with brushes, yet her view of Jonathan was never interrupted.
Kyra cannot take her eyes off Jonathan’s cock; two tongues slowly trace along from the base to the tip and back again, repeatedly yet never changing pace.
"Oh God!" Kyra hears Jonathan moan. She wants to echo his cry as the brushes keep lavishing her skin slowly, finally working just over her bra and panties, just grazing the outline of the her sensitive points. They trail along her arms, down along her legs, across her stomach and chest, lacing her body with whatever oil the brushes are coated in, painting a soft, sleek trail sliding along her hot skin. Her cleavage rises and falls faster as they work her like artists practicing on their living canvas, her usually slightly small breasts heaved up so much more by the tight bra.
She hears Jasmine speaking to Jonathan, telling him to focus on Kyra. The young girl blushes even more, knowing he can see how vulnerable she is. Previously she may have been focused on her embarrassment, all she can now think of is how turned on she is. Watching the women on the screen begin to take turns engulfing his swollen length, moving their heads back and forth as they suck on him, makes her loins radiate with desire. Kyra throws her head back and moans out deeply from the pit of her stomach as brushes focus on teasing her; the oil making the lingerie cling to her even more, making it almost see through. They circle around her pronounced nipples, gliding up and down her now plump mound, up and down against the slight elevation of the girl’s aroused sex, the tightness and wetness of the panties not aiding in concealing it. She strains against the cuffs as if trying to control her level of arousal, sensing that something isn’t right, having never been this turned on in her life.
“This oil seems to be taking effect nicely, which is just what you are here for, my dear,” says Terrence in a pleased tone, before flicking the paintbrush tip up between the folds of her lingerie which cling to her pussy lips. Kyra lets out a yelp of pleasure, unable to control herself. This has an effect on Jonathan too, who lets out a cry of ecstasy before one of the women pulls her mouth from his cock fast.
“Please! I was so close,” he yells out, before Jasmine takes over and masturbates him, her hand dripping with newly applied oil. Kyra watches as his muscles tense, the smooth glide of Jasmine’s hand stroking his shaft rapidly, before letting go abruptly to leave his cock bobbing up and down in evidence of how close it was to release.
The slow strokes, the cruel administration of the oil, and the display of pure male desire all add to the whirlpool of craving.
“Please, more!” Kyra exhales as two paintbrushes slip up and down the outline of her labia, as if outlining a path to her clitoris, which is already aching with need for attention. She tries to close her eyes, trying to focus on anything else, but the moaning from Jonathan makes short work of her will. The pair of women with the straining young man continued to take turns lavishing his throbbing cock with attention, stroking and sucking it while massaging his balls, which are tight after being brought to the edge of orgasm repeatedly. The women appear to be wearing earpieces, being told just when to stop, keeping him constantly on the verge. An image zooms in close of his cock, dripping with a mixture of oil and precum, the effect of the oil mingling with the constant torture of stimulation making every vein bulge. If Kyra hadn’t already been dripping wet, seeing this throbbing display of manhood on show and twitching constantly in need certainly would have made her so. Feeling the wet bristles trail along her cleavage and coat her soft flesh is an incessantly erotic tantalization, and coupled with the show on the screens, Kyra is finding it harder and harder to maintain any semblance of control.
“It is an aphrodisiac,” Terrence says softly to her. The soft strokes do not relent for a second.
“Made to affect males and females just the same, it is a fast acting, easily applied concoction of pure pleasure,” he smiles up at her before brushing up and down the centre of those oily wet panties, making her shiver in the restraints. “It seems to be working on you both just perfectly. Do you want to cum?”
“Y-Yes… yes, please!” she replies, not even considering the answer before it escapes her lips. Kyra watches Jonathan’s hips rock constantly, bucking as if in sync with Kyra herself, whose pleasure is never allowed to rise to that sweet edge, instead trapped on a pinnacle of arousal which never rose nor fell. As one of the women tormenting Jonathan licked and sucked the sensitive head of his cock, the other jerked the shaft back and forth, both pulling away at the same time to leave him to fuck the very air itself, trying to relieve the sexual tension in any way.
“Please! Please, I need more. Anything!” Kyra gasps, yet the paintbrushes do not falter in their speed, continuously circling and stroking at a deliberate pace. Suddenly, Terrence addresses her.
“We are curious to see the effects it can have without the implications of getting you to the edge like your handsome friend. Often just edging itself can be seen as a form of release. Well, more than what you are receiving,” he smirks. “I see it is already becoming a little too much for you. I think you are ready for the next stage.”
“OH FUCK! Stop teasing, please, I can’t take it…”
Two brush strokes sweep along her innermost thighs, where the line of her panties sinks against that sweet centre of femininity. The third, in Terrence’s hand, whispers across her slit, the thin pink panties, soaked in aphrodisiac oil, doing little to dull the sensations of the bristles swiping across her clitoris. Every inch of her screams for so much more, e
nvying the relief Jonathan must be feeling from at least being brought to the edge. Seeing his cock twitching and dripping was driving her crazy. She wanted to feel it inside her, feel it throbbing within. The fact that it was his eyes on her, seeing her arch her back, wriggle her hips and cry out in need, would have normally made her want to sink away. But she adored every moment he gazed at her. Her inhibitions were broken; all that mattered was the raw, animalistic cravings that clawed to the surface.
The two of them moan, gasp, writhe and beg in unison, it seemed like there was no end in sight, lost in a timeless void. As instantly as it had begun however, the sensations abruptly stop, leaving the pair panting uncontrollably as wordlessly the group leaves Kyra, leaving only Terrence alone with her.
“Tomorrow, you’ll get what you want,” he whispers to her, nibbling her earlobe. “You are going to be all his.”
Before she can respond, he is already gone, leaving her to gaze at Jonathan. His cock pulses with his heartbeat, constantly throbbing with need: the need for Kyra’s own juicy, full lips to wrap around them. She thrusts her hips out at the thought which had caused a rush throughout her body once more, thinking of how beautiful the sight and thought was, of how the harder he gets, the softer she gets. It was such a desperately erotic notion. The undetectable gas begins to fill the rooms as Kyra keeps her eyes fixed on that masculine frame, knowing that he is also watching her with animalistic desire. After several seconds of unknowingly inhaling, the last image in Kyra’s view before falling to sleep is the pulsating length of manhood she so desperately wants within her.