Story – forced stimulation by unknown devices

<…> The devices drove me to another shattering orgasm. There were three of them, and they were tiny – two disks with odd bumps and projections just covered my aureoles and nipples, and a similarly irregular trapezoidal box encompassed my hood and clit. They were stuck fast to my skin, somehow. When I had awakened to their stimulation in the white, doorless room, I’d tried to pull them off, and was rewarded with an intensification of the sensations that wiped out the line between pain and pleasure. I’d stopped almost immediately, nearly physically sick with the intensity of it, and just as quickly, pleasure was all that remained. It radiated from the metal objects all across my body – like they were wired to my spine, even right to my brain, but the feelings were most concentrated right in those most sensitive areas. That first time, as I lay too scared to move lest I provoke the more extreme reaction, the orgasm came unbelievably quickly – faster than my own most horny masturbations. I screamed and shuddered on the small bed until the stimulation stopped and allowed me to come down, panting and sweaty.

I rested for a time, still to scared to move, until the pleasure started again, not stopping until I’d cum again. This repeated more times; the time interval between each onslaught seemed to never be the same, never predictable. Exhausted and dehydrated after perhaps my sixth or seventh forced orgasm, the sharp, mechanical voice made me jump. <…>

It was almost impossible to discern one sensation from the next. I could
barely put two thoughts together, but I knew was that something was horribly
wrong. Touches were everywhere. Something warm, soft, unyeilding filled my
mouth, muffling the sounds I tried to make. I breathed thick, damp air
through my nose only. Opening my eyes yielded context-free shapes and
patterns in a kaleidoscope of colors. I couldn’t see my body, nor the thing
or things acting upon it. Sounds like music, like moaning, like water,
filled my ears with melodic cacophony.

Something long and slippery-hot slowly fucked in and out of my cunt. The
shaft was flexible and textured. It twitched, bulged and vibrated at
irregular locations and intervals as it delved deep, or pumped shallowly.
Around it gelid, stubby protrusions  pressed my sensitized skin. They wiggled
and stroked my labia and inner thighs to either side of my furrow, up to my
clit and the whole of my pubic mound, and down to my perineum and the edge
of my anus, where another sinuous intruder fucked my ass in contrasting
rhythms to the thrusting in my pussy.

Mouths, or mouthlike things, suckled on my nipples, alternately nipping or
twisting them, teasing the aureoles while the rest of my breasts received
more and less gentle caresses all over. Each of my asscheeks recieved
simialr treatment. Tongues or wet finger-things pressed into and licked my
underarms, the crooks of my elbows and knees,  between my toes and fingers,
around my neck, behind my ears.

More groping, rubbing sensations stroked across my belly and back, up and
down my legs and arms, my chest and scalp. Every bend and crevice on my body
probed, every inch of skin caressed, constantly, insistently, sexually.

I could move my arms and legs a little, flail and kick as if immersed in
warm molasses, but I could neither close my legs fully, nor bring my arms
close to touch or protect any part of my body.

Every time I orgasmed, the symphony of stimulation worked to prolong the
climax’s duration excruciatingly, until I threathened to pass out. Then
everything would slow and recede – though never completely stop – as my
shuddering body recovered. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the teasing and
tingling would ramp up again, starting in diffferent places on my body and
moving one to the next, or adding to each other until my body was inexorably
dragged toward another peak.

I could barely think at all through the sensations washing over and through
me. I couldn’t feel humiliation at the betrayal of my body to unwelcome
stimulation; there was no possible way I could have resisted for long, and I
couldn’t remember if I’d even tried, at the start. I couldn’t muster fear
about what was happening to me beyond a nebulous cloud of confusion,
couldn’t count the times I was forced to climax. All I could do was writhe,
arch, pull, kick, and cum.

———-
55.

The devices drove me to another shattering orgasm. There were three of them,
and they were tiny – two disks with odd bumps and projections just covered
my aureoles and nipples, and a similarly irregular trapezoidal box
encompassed my hood and clit. They were stuck fast to my skin, somehow. When
I had awakened to their stimulation in the white, doorless room, I’d tried
to pull them off, and was rewarded with an intensification of the sensations
that wiped out the line between pain and pleasure. I’d stopped almost
immediately, nearly physically sick with the intensity of it, and just as
quickly, pleasure was all that remained. It radiated from the metal objects
all across my body – like they were wired to my spine, even right to my
brain, but the feelings were most concentrated right in those most sensitive
areas. That first time, as I lay too scared to move lest I provoke the more
extreme reaction, the orgasm came unbelievably quickly – faster than my own
most horny masturbations. I screamed and shuddered on the small bed until
the stimulation stopped and allowed me to come down, panting and sweaty.

I rested for a time, still to scared to move, until the pleasure started
again, not stopping until I’d cum again. This repeated more times; the time
interval between each onslaught seemed to never be the same, never
predictable. Exhausted and dehydrated after perhaps my sixth or seventh
forced orgasm, the sharp, mechanical voice made me jump.

“Eat. Drink,” it said. Groggily I raised my head to see a small panel in the
wall had opened. Slowly, I moved to take what was offered. It tasted good,
and I ate ravenously. The machine-voice commanded me to return the used
containers to the niche and closed the panel, setting off the devices as the
door closed, and giving me two orgasms in rapid succession.

I tried to explore the food delivery panel and the rest of the room for ways
out, but whenever my actions became suspicious, the devices hit me with
their lightning, as I quickly came to call it. It always resolved into
orgasm inducing pleasure when I stopped the proscribed behavior.

The devices randomly hit me with pleasure for an unknown time. I slept, ate,
woke, and came enough times to lose count of it all. It was hard to think
about much else in the bare room – even contemplate the hows and whys of my
situation. Then, after yet another screaming climax, the panel slid open to
reveal a large, realistic dildo.

——

Nightmares and Visions (51-55)
by Monocle

Rating 1.67 out of 5

Leave a Reply

*