The Deal Of A Lifetime- Part 1

Happy No Nut Novermber (An Enchantress Story)

The enchantress grasps her struggling her by the wrist and pulls him into the dungeon, where he is strapped to the padded rack. His wrists cuffed to the board above his head, his legs forced wide apart by chains around his ankles, and for an extra touch of helplessness his meaty, muscular thighs are bound in silver clasps. He is utterly trapped.

Enchantress: Hero… despite your rebellious nature as a student of mine I have managed to teach you many lessons of sex education.Today, however, you will assist me on some sexual… experimenting.

Hero: I don’t consent to this science.

Enchantress: No worries, your consent isn’t necessary.

The enchantress gives a smug grin and presses her face close to his. He can smell her perfume, and see the opulence that is her eyes. His resolve to fight her falters against her domineering might. He grows erect.

For a moment kindness from her soul shines from her eyes.

She lays a kiss on his forehead and whispers…

Enchantress: This will be scary, but I won’t let you be harmed…

She winks and gets to “work.” She wraps her hand around his cock and holds it close to her lips. She whispers an incantation, and the hero can feel the magic trickle down his cock…

She begins to massage it with one hand, her other grasping his balls. She smirks at his discomfort.

Enchantress: This will be a loooong~ while, hero. Please try and relax.

Against the enchantress’s experienced skill and talent there is no relaxing possible, and she knows this. Her fingers press beneath his tip, as though propping up a tulip so it faced the afternoon sun, and gives the tiniest squeezes all while tickling, then fondling, then tickling again his balls and shaft.

It is agony. Ten minutes of steady agony before she begins to apply more pressure…

Enchantress: I’m merciful tonight… You’ll get to cum soon… in half an hour…

Ten minutes of slow and gentle stroking. The hero bites his lip and shivers.

Ten minutes of tightening her grip and bouncing. The hero gives such sweet, delicious moans.

Finally, ten minutes of careful, dedicated strokes. The hero’s cries are like desperate surrenders.

Finally he..

He…?

Hero: Wha- what’s happening?

He looks down. It is all the desperation and passion of a climax. All of the passion and moaning and his hips desperately bucking against his clasps.

But there is no release, no cum squirting from his cock, no relief and no climactic pleasure.

He feels, somehow, the cum that has been building up in his tight balls, that should be shooting out of his cock, instead swirling around… increasing… as though climbing up the shaft, only to come back into his balls…

And the enchantress’s smug grin grows into a sadistic leer, full of glee and lust…

The “climax” ends and his body settles… but the cum that has built up in his balls has not subsided, and his urge for orgasm has not been settled. In fact it feels as though his “orgasm” has somehow tightened his balls with more cum inside than before. Locked in, unreleased…

Hero: What…what is this-?

Enchantress: You can say that I’ve reached into the cosmic dictionary, hero, and changed the definition of your orgasm as I wish.

Hero: I… I haven’t cum…

Enchantress: Indeed… your orgasm should have been your release… But from now on it is nothing of the sort. Your balls still make precious cum, but it no longer has anywhere to exit… 

She gives his balls a small squeeze, satisfied by how they feel much fuller. Like the grapes on a vinyard, kept full by bending their stems but full and firm of juice.

Enchantress: Did you think the torture I had in store was simple teasing and denial? Oh no… I’ve changed the game…

Hero: No… wait…

Enchantress: There is no need to deny… You may “climax” as much as you like. This is not just an experiment on sex… I’ve altered the biology… No. The physics of sex itself!

Hero: No, wait, please don’t-!

The enchantress mounts the hero. His cock, never releasing its seed, remained erect and desperate.

She laughs as she bounces on him, thoroughly enjoying herself.

It is not purely one sided… The beginning and middle are the same. Both she and the hero share the ride… The excitement… The lip biting build up…

But when they climax it is she who feels the rapture and release, and his is a climax of yet more tension… More frustration… Cum that climbs his shaft but returns to his balls…

The cork doesn’t pop from the champagne bottle. The wine will not pour.

More and more cum in his balls, swelling them..

Hero: Argh… What is this..

Enchantress: Oh~ Is it tight, hero?

She unmounts and feels his erection. Moist, but not even a drop of precum. And his balls…

They do not comically inflate, magic or not, but they are bigger now… Perhaps, however, depending on how long she decides to keep him so…

Hero: Please… I can’t take anymore… They can’t become much fuller!

Enchantress: Shhh… do not doubt my work… You will become so full, so frustrated, and so tense… Your body will eternally demand orgasm after orgasm all for a release that will never come…

And with that she begins again with her fingers…

It is faster this time… Despite her teasing and care his body is so teased, so desperate for release he “climaxes” in less than ten minutes…

The cum swirls in his tight, growing balls, all cupped in her hands…

After that, eight minutes…

Four minutes…

Three…

Hero: Urgh… No… It’s too much…

Enchantress: Does it hurt, hero?

Hero: They might pop…

Enchantress: Don’t be silly. Does it hurt hero?

There is no pain. Only desperation… Only the never ending pleasure of tease… of forever leaping into a river to end up on dry land again, inches from the water… Of biting into a fruit but never breaking through the peel, only able to smell its sweet flesh and never taste…

Hero: The… the cum…

Enchantress: That’s right, hero… It’s not just that it isn’t cumming… It’s multiplying… to use a foregin term, Newton’s laws be damned. The orgasm of so much cum would make for an hour long orgasm, hero.

Hero: Please…

Enchantress: And I’ll never let you have it… It’ll build up and build and build… and you’ll climax and climax and climax… But even though I will be having the time of my life riding atop of you, you…

She kisses his desperate face and whispers in his ears…

Enchantress: …will forever be in hell…

Just imagining being at dinner and meeting your parents for the first time, chatting away, laughing and having a good time, and the whole time I’m secretly rubbing you under the table through your jeans so you’re blushing and struggling to stay still 😌

-5

Cruel Nurse

You’ve been in an accident that has left you half-paralyzed. You can’t really move, but you are on the mend. It’s just going to take a long while. You do have feeling in certain parts, however. In fact, it would seem your genitals are all the more sensitive, though this may have something to do with not having been able to touch yourself or release for three months. All you get down there are a few tender sponge baths, and we aren’t exactly allowed to take it further. At least not until I come on staff.

I’m apparently either exactly your type in the looks department, or you’re just so pent up any woman will do. Perhaps a combination of both. You get an erection every time I walk in the door, and today, it doesn’t seem to want to quit. I give you a small frown. “What’s this about, then?” I say.

You mumble an apology and mention it’s been weeks since you could touch yourself. My frown remains but now it is a sympathetic one. “I see. That must be very difficult for you.” You mumble something, and I lean over, my cleavage quite visible, and say, “Speak up, please, I can’t hear you.”

“Please, please touch me!” you manage to choke out.

My eyebrows raise a bit. “Well, that certainly is a bold request. Well, lucky for you I am single.” I walk out the door, leaving you confused for a moment, but I am speaking with two other nurses, telling them to keep a look out. I come back in and go over to the shelf. I grab a latex glove and slowly slide it onto my hand, letting go of the cuff with a snap.

I close the door and pull the privacy screen around us, then pull up a chair. I reach over and grasp your penis. You are so sensitive, the touch sends a shiver down your whole body. I begin to stroke you, in quick rhythmic tugs. You babble a stream of thanks. I have to restrain myself from smiling in that cruel way that every boyfriend I’ve had learns to fear.

I sit prim and proper, a look of clinical boredom on my face, though the twinkle in my eye suggests I’m having more fun than I’m letting on. My hand, moves mechanically, the latex glove making the whole scene seem strangely impersonal, but even this heartless touch is more than enough to inflame your poor, lonely cock.

Suddenly, my hand stops. I am still touching you, but I pinch your cock just below the penis head. Your cock flexes in between my thumb and forefinger, but the sudden cease of stimulation and the pinching have cut off your climax. You gasp and look at me confused. However, the moment passes and I resume my stroking. I continue for a few more minutes, then stop again, just before you peak.

Again you gasp, and this time look to me with a pained expression. I wait a moment, and resume stroking, only to stop again a few minutes later. You beg me to keep going, but I give you a cold look. “Be quiet,” I say. “Do you want to cum or don’t you?” Eyes wide, still confused, you nod almost drunkenly. “Then be quiet. You don’t want to get caught like this.”

Maintaining my detached expression, I edge you again and again for nearly an hour, teasing you to the brink, then backing off only until you’re about to get yourself under control, then starting up again. Your sticky pre-cum coats your stomach and my gloved hand.

“How often did you used to masturbate?” I ask you with forced flatness, emphasizing the words “used to.” It’s the first time I’ve spoken in an hour and the words briefly startle you.

“T-t-twice a day,” you gasp.

“Oh, my,” I say. “So you must be really frustrated, I take it?” You nod vigorously. “Well, then, I shall have to be careful not to get you too excited.”

“Oh, please, PLEASE!” you whine.

I just give you a look of bored tolerance, staving off another climax with the pinch, then slowly resume stroking as you let out a frustrated groan. Another half an hour of edging goes by, and you can only offer pitiful whimpers and pleas. I’ve got the rhythm down to edge you almost once a minute. Suddenly, after one more close call, I stop and stand up, pulling the sheet back over you.

“What are you doing?!” you gasp. “You can’t leave me like this!”

“I see no reason not to,” I say. “I’ll be back later, we can pick back up then.”

“But you can’t! Oh, Jesus, I need it so bad!”

“I see. And what are you going to do about it?” You squirm in an attempt to reach your cock yourself, but you only wince in pain. “See. You’ll only hurt yourself if you try. And that could make this recovery go even longer for you. Which I suppose I don’t mind. That just means even more opportunities to do this.”

You start to beg again, but I immediately fix you with a steely hard gaze. “Stop that,” I say. “No begging. It’s annoying.” You open your mouth to protest. “Stop it.” I say with finality. You’re mouth works, but I hold my gaze, and you look away, defeated. You mutter an apology.

I say nothing for a moment. Then I leave the room. I return a minute later with a blood pressure sleeve. Wordlessly, I pull back the sheet, slip the cuff over your penis, and begin to repeatedly squeeze the bulb.

“What are you doing?” you say, startled by this. I say nothing, just continue to squeeze the bulk. Almost entranced, you watch the sleeve inflate, and for a few moments, the squeezing of your cock is pleasant. Then it becomes uncomfortable. Then it becomes almost painful. Only when you let out a yelp do I stop increasing the pressure.

“Oh god, please, take it off, take it off!” you beg.

I give the bulb one more squeeze and say, “Shut up.” You curse. I squeeze the bulb one more time. “Shut. Up.” You have to bite your cheek not to say anything, or even whimper. I let the sleeve hold for a few moments, then I slacken the pressure just enough that it’s just uncomfortable again. However, the tight grip forces your cock to remain rock hard.

I slip something out of my pocket. It’s a little “bullet” vibrator. I ease it into the edge of the sleeve, right on the sweet spot I discovered as I was stroking you, then give the bulb one more squeeze to secure the vibe in place. You grit your teeth as I turn it on.

“I’ll be back to check on you in an hour,” I say. “I suggest cumming within that time if you really want release.” I pull the sheet back over you and leave.

True to my word, I don’t return for an hour. When I come back, there are tears of frustration running down your face. Despite the erotic sensations of the vibrator, the cruel sleeve has not allowed you to release. I remove the vibe, then wait another minute for you to calm down a bit, before releasing the pressure of the sleeve and removing it.

However, I then remove a long, thin ribbon from my pocket. I tie it snug around the base of your cock then loop it around your testicles, before pulling the ribbon down and tying it to the bottom frame of the bed. This pulls your testicles away from your body, while enticing your penis to remain hard.

“Wh-what are you doing?” you moan, pitifully.

“Just making sure you’re secure.” I sit on the chair and resume my stroking. You immediately try to cum, but the ribbon pulls tight against your balls, resisting your natural urges. Despite my steady, unceasing ministrations, you still cannot release.

Desperately, you plead for mercy, and ask me why I am doing this. I reach over and flick your testicles. Not too hard, but they are quite sensitive, and it’s enough to make you yelp in horror. “Be quiet,” I say.

I stroke you for some time, maintaining my mechanical tugging, but you hang on the edge of orgasm for as much as ten minutes, the bondage cruelly preventing you from going over, before I have to stop and let you cool down.

You’re steadily leaking pre-cum now, and my glove is slick with it. I use my other hand to steady your cock, holding it at the base. Then I take my gloved hand and begin to run a finger around and around the ridge of the head, stopping to slip the finger down across the frenulum, then back up to circle around the ridge.

You let out a series of sharp cries and whimpers, and despite my orders, you beg me once more. I slip my hand down and now, instead of my finger on the ridge, the palm of my hand catches your penishead. I twist my palm against you like I’m unscrewing a lid, making sure to curl my fingers to tug gently on the ridge as they slide along it.

You let out a low scream and try to thrash, calling for help. I give your balls a quick slap. “Stop talking,” I say. My voice doesn’t change, but you know I mean business. Every time you talk, I give your balls another slap, and soon, you force yourself to remain as quiet as possible, returning to a pathetic whimper.

After another few moments of this, I stop, and stand up. I then pull a device from my doctor’s coat, a small box with wires coming off of it, ending in pads, and a plug. It is an electro-stimulation device. You look at it with renewed terror. You’re about to protest once more, but another look from me, and you know better.

I attach the little pads to your penis, in three pairs along the length of the shaft. I then plug the wires into the box, plug in the box, and turn on the dial. Immediately, you feel every nerve in your penis light up with a rapid pulsing of sharp pleasure along the length of the shaft.

You can barely draw breath to scream, much less beg. Your body shudders with overstimulation. I then replace the blood pressure sheath, careful to maintain the placement of the wires. I squeeze the bulb until your penis is just a bit too snug in its grip. Your cock head, already an ugly shade of purple, swells to maximum tension. I leave your balls bound; between that, and the sheath, you will not cum no matter what. I turn up the dial on the e-stim to maximum, and agonizing pleasure ripples through you.

Knowing you can’t help but cry out now, I produce a gag, and secure it around your mouth. I lean close to your ear and say, “My shift is ending, so I’ll be back tomorrow. The nurses have been informed to make sure your current condition remains stable until I return.” With that, I leave you to suffer through the night. If you haven’t managed to cum by the time I get back, well, clearly you don’t want it bad enough yet.