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Softly she began to cry

I waited quietly and watched until the first orgasm came crashing down over her.

The moment it broke was perfect - all of the tension in her face fell away. Her eye lids gently closed as her eyes slowly rolled back into her head, her head fell back until it was stopped by the pull of her breasts away from her chest via their taught nipple clamps, while her jaw began to drop around the ball gag - a silent scream in beautiful agony - she was in sheer ecstasy.

I stood back in the middle of the room jealously admiring her breath-taking predicament.

Little did she know what awaited her.

-[ = ]-

The smell of Patricia's sex filled the room. It permeated my nostrils and set my mind on sexual fire. The only sound to be heard was the powerful buzzing of the vibrator that purred inexorably on.

Patricia began to rouse. It took her a moment to shake the delirium. She raised her head and flinched when the pain bit into her nipples. She looked over to me;

"Bmmp Mm Mmmp," Patricia seemed to be asking.

I mischievously smiled at her.

She looked like she was trying to smile back until realisation swept across her face.

"Bmmp Mmn Mmnmp!" Patricia seemed to be demanding.

A sheen of sweat had broken out over her whole body.

"Turn it off?" I asked, with my most practiced puzzled expression.

She looked relieved, "Hmm!" she mumbled.

"Not yet," I winked.

A look of terror came over her. Patricia, as with most women, hadn't been fortunate enough to learn that the clitoris, like the head of the penis, becomes hyper-sensitive post orgasm. Any clitoral stimulation capable of driving a woman to orgasm is unbearable, if not painful, after the fact. She was about to experience her first forced orgasm. And she realised it.

"Bmmp! Mnm! Mnmmp!" she bellowed into her gag through her heavy breathing, as the unrelenting stimulation drove her tortured clit on.

I shook my head and wandered off to get myself a glass of water.

For Patricia the conflict was just beginning. At first it was becoming more and more difficult to mentally hold back the painful over-stimulation, trying to conquer the unwanted but intense stimulation, trying to suppress the dread and anger of somebody forcing unwanted sexual manipulation on her. But then suddenly her body plateaued and slowly the stimulation of her clit gave way to arousal again. The thoughts became erotic; of being out of control, subject to another's whim's, unable to say no, available to anything he may desire. Her face flushed and the red hue raced from her cheeks to her chest and brought new heat to her nipples. She groaned audibly as her body betrayed her mind with her already sopping pussy starting to leak fresh juices and her nipples feeling like they had hardened even further.

Realising that the next orgasm may not be her last, she wanted to fight it or at least delay it. The restraints were needed, then. She writhed and struggled in her bonds, part of her wanting to tear off the vibrator and get some peace, part of her wanting to tear off the restraints and devour the machine with her desperate cunt. Her breathing became strained. Her thighs fought impossibly to close over her tightly bound and unprotected crotch. In her mind, Patricia fought back the arousal, and the tears, and the desire to embrace the heavenly feeling growing in her warm wet pussy, and the vibrator purred relentlessly on.

As the arousal got to the point of overcoming her will, her hips rolled and struggled beneath her bonds, aching with the intensity of her feelings.

In the end, the inevitable happened - another crashing orgasm - her pussy juices tickling her thigh as they leaked out into the carpet - nipples returning to their dull ache. She screamed in despair, beaten and betrayed by her weak and fickle physiological responses. She was so determined to beat them.

I laughed to myself and put the empty glass down on the side table.

-[ = ]-

Patricia roused from her second orgasm. The vibrating monster doesn't need rest.

I was waiting for

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