Misc. Erotica Compilation of English stories (Collected)

[Priyanka98]

I woke shortly after noon on Saturday, reflexively curled into a ball as I slept. The soreness I felt was immeasurable, and I felt like I had run a marathon. My dead phone sat next to me; I hadn't plugged it in before passing out the night before. The thought of what it may contain scratched at the back of my head as I began charging it, before finally drawing myself a bath that I so badly needed.

While the bath did far less for the soreness than I wished, the Aspirin I took beforehand was far more effective. Besides the pain, simply washing off the evidence of the prior night's activities went far in helping me feel human again. By the time I came out, wrapped in my fuzziest robe, I felt just normal enough to dread what my phone contained. And though it was charged enough to turn on, I couldn't bring myself to watch. In fact, I pledged not to.

But I couldn't bring myself to delete the video, either. To even look at it was a temptation I couldn't handle, and so I ignored it. I spent the weekend recovering, and did my damndest to put the incident out of my mind. Even as I went back into the basement to finish cleaning up, I maintained a sort of mental distance from the memories of what had happened; I just wasn't ready to deal with it yet.

And for that entire week, that was how I continued. Ironically, despite how much I felt like I had been hammered out and reshaped, a number of coworkers made sure to comment on how fresh and rejuvenated I looked on Monday. To which I smiled and made small talk, and refused to think deeply as to what that might imply. (I did, however, allow myself to buy a new combination lock. For the gym, of course. But I also couldn't bring myself to remove it from the packaging.) I threw myself into my work, refusing to give myself a free moment.

But when Friday rolled around and the weekend loomed once again, I found it impossible to put the previous weekend out of mind any further. At the very least, I bargained with myself, I needed to know just how much the video had captured before my phone died. And so I ate dinner, poured myself a large glass of wine, and sat down on my couch to finally look at my phone.

Opening the video, I quickly scrubbed straight to the end to see where it had cut off. Brief frames of the rest of the video flashes across the screen for only moments, but even that was enough to light a fire between my legs. Even though some soreness remained, it had also kept me from relieving any tension for the week, and I felt as if I were on a hair trigger.

Reaching the end, I saw myself asleep on my basement floor, skin shining with sweat. Improbably, the phone had captured the entire experience, only dying once I had already freed myself and passed out. Some part of me had hoped the video had cut out after only a minute, or somehow corrupted itself, just to save me from the temptation. But now here I sat, with the entire thing at my fingertips. All I had to do was press Play.

I finished my wine before making another move, staring intently at that Play button. This was a larger choice than it seemed, and I knew it. If I embraced what this video showed me, I knew I would end up chasing this high for the rest of my life. I had been in genuine danger last weekend, and only escaped through Herculean effort. Would I be able to escape again, if I kept chasing this? Did I even want to? The unopened lock sitting in my purse seemed to throb at my feet.

I slipped a hand beneath my legs, under the pretence of feeling how inflamed the skin felt. What I found instead was that even thinking about this had soaked my panties completely, to the point that running my fingers over the outside pulled away strings of wetness. I shivered at the sensation, my mind slipping back into memories. I had been terrified, I had been pushed drastically beyond what I was comfortable with or what was even safe... and it had been the most thrilling experience of my life.

Wordlessly, I stood up and pulled my dress over my head. Soon the bra followed, and my ruined panties next. A few taps of my phone, and the video was now cast onto my living room television in crisp HD quality. I sat in the center of my couch, spread my legs wide for my fingers, and began the video.

For one hour and thirty-six minutes, I fingerfucked my pussy to the spectacle of my own imprisonment and sexual devastation. When she cried out for mercy, I edged myself in anticipation. When orgasms ripped through her, I softly caressed my own pussy lips to delay my own finish. And when she screamed at me in anger, blaming me for her suffering, I accepted her words as truth and pounded myself relentlessly. I don't let up as she forced herself into one final, awe-inspiring orgasm that shattered her bonds, my cries joining hers as her body went limp and simply endured the final ravishment by the merciless machine. And she she slumped off the toy, collapsing to the ground, I licked my fingers clean with a single clear thought in my mind: I envy her.

As the video ended, I stood from the couch to ready myself for bed, satisfied for the moment. But the hunger that I felt inside, I knew wouldn't be satisfied by anything less that what I had already endured. My whole adult life had been motivated by my endless climb into sexual depravity, and it wasn't going to stop now. Reaching into my purse, I began unwrapping the lock as I passed by the kitchen garbage. Nonchalantly (as if I had someone to hide my actions from), I quietly peeled the sticker off the lock that indicated the combination, shoving it into the wreckage of the packaging. I threw the entire mess into the recycling, leaving the lock sitting prominently on my dining room table to find in the morning.

Whoops.